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IN WEST POINT GRAY 

AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


The Boys' 

Story of the Army Series 

By 

FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL 

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Born to the Blue .... S 1 .2 5 
In West Point Gray . . . 1.50 

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L. C. PAGE fcf COMPANY 

New England Building , Boston, Mass. 






































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WELL, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT? * ” 




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In West Point 

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Id. 

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Gray 

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AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


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FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL 

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Author of “Born to the Blue,” etc. 

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Illustrated by 

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JAMES K. BONNAR 

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BOSTON ? ? ? 9 ¥ 

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 

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? ? 9 + MDCCCC VIII 

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LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

NOV 6 1908 



Copyright , igo8 
By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 


All rights reserved 


, <First Impression, October, 1908 

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4 9 4 

C «° 



Electrotyped and Printed at 
THE COLONIAL PRESS: 
C.H.Simonds CEL Co., Boston, U.S. A. 


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West Point “ has filled every arm of the military service 
with talent , efficiency , and integrity; has materially aided 
in successfully conducting three great wars , extending our 
national domain , and preserving the Union; has perpetu- 
ally pushed the wild savage from our borders , and been the 
pioneer of our advancing civilization; has constructed and 
armed our fortifications , improved our harbours , lakes, and 
rivers , defined our boundaries , surveyed and lighted our 
coasts , explored the length and breadth of our land; 

. . . to supplied valuable city, state , and government 
functionaries ; . . . through the contributions and 

text-books of its graduates , /tas greatly elevated the scientific 
standard of most of the educational institutions throughout 
our country , and extended its influence abroad” 

Front General W, Cullom's “ Biographical Register of the Gradu- 
ates of the Military Academy 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


♦ 

PAGE 

“ 1 Well, what are you going to do about it? * ” ( See 

page 238) Frontispiece / 

“ Turned the knob with a most unsteady hand ” . 33 , 

“ Fluttered down from the top of the wardrobe ” 83 - 

l< In a moment the plebe had recovered himself ” . 141 * 

“ He turned his eyes on Mizzoo for the first time 192 
“ * I think Mr. Stirling and I have met before/ 

Marie said quietly " 276 


IN 

WEST POINT GRAY 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 

CHAPTER ONE 

Guard -mounting over at Fort Union, the 
trumpeters shrilled their way back to the guard- 
house where the old and new officers of the day * 
made their inspections, verified the number of 
prisoners, and then reported to the commanding 
officer, who relieved the one from that particular 
duty and gave the other his instructions for the 
next twenty-four hours. 

It was a small cavalry post in Arizona, and 
every one there from Major Stirling, the officer 
commanding, down to the newest recruit in 
barracks, turned out each morning at eight o’clock 
to witness the pretty ceremony. 

“ It’s our thedtre, circus, and Atlantic City 
board walk rolled into one,” the first sergeant of 
K troop remarked as he slipped off his belts and 
l 


2 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


loosened an uncommonly tight blouse. “ At other 
drills and parades, barrin’ the ladies on Officers’ 
Row, we’re all actors instead of audience, but 
once a day, at least, most of us gets a chance to 
see how we looks from the other side of the foot' 
lights.” 

“ Sure, and it was Jack Stirling himself that 
used to love the military farmations,” commented 
a little Irishman whose bunk adjoined the door 
of the first sergeant’s room, “ and it’s the truth 
I’m telling you, Donnelly, that I miss the lad as 
if he’d bin gone a year! Why, it’s taken the very 
soul out of all our drills, not seeing his bright 
face looking on, and sometimes I get that black- 
hearted wid the loneliness that I most wish the 
President hadn’t appointed him ‘ at large ’ to the 
Military Academy.” 

Sergeant Donnelly threw back his head with 
a characteristic movement, much as a restive 
horse might toss its mane. 

“ And what’s our loneliness got to do with 
Mr. Jack’s career? ” he demanded truculently. 
“ What’s his father’s and mother’s loneliness got 
to do with it? Though, to be sure, you’d never 
have guessed to see the Major and the Major’s 
lady say in’ good bye to the boy at the station last 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


3 


week that they was a-dreadin’ the separation. 
Thoroughbreds never shows what they feels, 
while curs go yappin’ around all the time, thinkin’ 
if they don’t yap, folks won’t give ’em credit 
for havin’ proper sensibilities.” 

Observing that the Irishman’s feelings were 
proof against this delicate innuendo, Donnelly 
went on still more emphatically: 

“ Why, bless my brass buttons, O’Rourke, 
Jack Stirlin’ was born a soldier, and all but used 
a rifle for a rattle and a canteen for a nursin’ 
bottle. Didn’t he set up from the very first, 
straight as a field officer and with a chest on him 
just made for medals and decorations? As to 
how he’s lived up to that chest it ain’t for me to 
say, you-all, with the exception, perhaps, of 
the shave- tails that come last week, knowin’ 
the kid as well as I do.” 

“ Oh, young Stirling’s a broth of a boy,” the 
little Irishman put in hurriedly, “ and that well 
braced, he can teach them cadets more ’an they’ll 
ever learn him! Sure, he’ll make the friends at 
West Point, Donnelly. If it was to war he was 
off, I’d say he’d have smiled the inimy into 
surrender at the cannon’s mouth.” 

Somewhat mollified, Donnelly made answer: 


4 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ It’s more than just smilin’ that wins friends 
for Jack Stirlin’, Mike,” and lowering his voice 
a bit: Did you ever know it was to him I’m 
owin’ my chevrons? Well, it is, for years ago 
when I was a worthless private in his father’s 
troop, without self-respect enough to hold my 
shoulders back or my head up, and with no record 
to speak of except that brought out by the 
court-martials that tried me, Jack he come 
along; and, sir, from the first the kid took to 
me like I was a saint masqueradin’ as a 
sinner. He thought I was as honest and clean- 
minded as he was, and that I couldn’t do no 
wrong and, bless the old eagle, if bhe little 
rascal’s relyin’ on me didn’t begin to make me 
reliable.” 

Just here the other members of the troop, who 
had been watching guard-mounting, filed into the 
room by twos and threes, so Donnelly and the 
Irishman went out on the broad veranda to enjoy 
a quiet pipe before drill call sounded. 

“Yes, sir,” Donnelly continued, “ the little 
kid’s friendship taught me the lesson that trustin’ 
folks makes ’em worthy of trust, and by the same 
tokin, now that I’m top sergeant of K troop I don’t 
hold the rookies off at the point of the bayonet, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


5 


rammin , it into ’em every time they tries to parry, 
but I gives them a bayonet, too, and we stands 
shoulder to shoulder on the intrenchments say in’ 
‘ No surrender! * to the enemies of the squadron, 
them things that fill up the guard house every 
pay day. 

“You see, kid though he was, Jack Stirlin’ 
taught me that if you really wants to help the world 
along it’s better to overrate folks in your mind 
than to underrate ’em; for, like horses or dogs, 
people have a way of livin’ up to or down to your 
ideas of ’em.” 

“ I never heard before that you owed your 
chevrons to Mr. Jack,” O’Rourke said after a 
moment or two of silence, “ though on first j’ining 
the reg’ment I was given to understand you’d bin 
a hard drinker in your time, Donnelly, an un- 
common hard drinker.” He paused, to continue 
half shyly: “I’m glad, though, you told me 
about the chevrons, for it makes me understand 
how it was you stood by me when — when — ” 
he floundered helplessly, “ well, when I got mesilf 
into that scrape wid the canteen fund, you know. 
Things was so bad for a time, I couldn’t see how 
you still belaved in me.” 

The sergeant returned the doglike look of de- 


6 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


votion in the other's moist eyes with a quizzical 
smile. 

“ If I’d reasoned the thing out, Mike,” he 
acknowledged, “ I wouldn’t have believed in 
you. The evidence was dead to rights against 
your bein’ straight, but before I took the matter up 
to the K. O. I decided to look into it as Jack 
Stirlin’ would have done, for he ain’t the sort that 
drops a man from the rolls of those he likes nor 
reduces him to ranks without a trial, and he ain’t 
no believer in a drumhead court-martial either, 
Jack Stirlin’ ain’t. No more is he one of these 
yere fellers always ready to be judge advocate 
and court over every one he meets. You know 
the sort of chap I mean, who, if he don’t execute 
a friend out and out for some fancied wrong, cuts 
off his buttons and drums him off the reservation, 
hands tied and mouth gagged so’s he can’t prove 
his innocence with fist or tongue. 

“ Well, sir, that set me to thinkin’ what a square 
sort of feller you’d always bin, and the thinkin’ 
led to investigatin’, and the investigatin’, as 
you know, didn’t end till we’d found the money, 
chewed and clawed up considerable a-linin’ a 
rat’s nest right back of your desk in the post 
exchange.” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


7 


The little Irishman blew his nose loudly. 

“ Bless the lad's heart, Donnelly, if it hadn’t 
bin for him and for you I might be in Leaven- 
worth now sarving me sintence.” 

“ Yes, and the rat would still be enjoyin’ his 
green wall paper at the cost of fifty dollars to the 
post exchange,” laughed Donnelly. Then he 
drew out a handsome gold watch, his parting gift 
from the commanding officer’s son, with a 
startled : 

“ By the Stars and Stripes, Mike, do you realize 
that Mr. Jack’s just about landin’ on the Point 
now? Let me see, three hours difference in 
time — yes, that would make it noon there, and 
he was to have gone up on the day boat this 
momin’ to report to the Adjutant! ” 

And even as Donnelly spoke, and the trumpets 
called the little Arizona garrison to nine o’clock 
drill the Albany arrived off West Point. Near the 
forward gangway stood Donnelly’s young friend, 
a tall, blond fellow, his face so transfigured by a 
great joy that many who caught a passing glimpse 
of him looked again, some with wonder and some 
with just a touch of envy for the glad anticipation 
that clothed him as in a garment. 

All the way up from New York Jack Stirling 


8 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


had seemed to know every point along shore, 
from having heard it described so often by his 
father and other old graduates, while each bend 
in the river was like a familiar face welcoming him 
to the Academy. 

As he stepped off the gang plank the band on 
the forward deck struck up “ Hail the Conquering 
Hero Comes,” and Jack had smiled involuntarily 
and coloured a bit at the presumption of his own 
thoughts, for he could not but feel it was an omen 
that he would pass the coming examinations with 
flying colours and vanquish every difficulty in 
the four years to follow. 

Up, up the long hill he climbed, this, too, being 
symbolic of the climb from plebe June to the June 
of graduation, and at every step his pulse leapt 
higher to meet the glorious thought that he had 
really arrived at the Mecca of all his boyish hopes. 
To one side of him stretched the Hudson as blue 
and unruffled as the sky above it. On the other 
side a precipitous cliff tumbled -down from the 
hills beyond and halted, sentinel-like, on the brink 
of the dusty road. 

At last Stirling reached the Administration 
Building, remembering with a smile the old story 
of the western plebe who reported to the dignified 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


9 


Superintendent with a breezy, “ Say, Mister, that 
there hill of youm’s a breather.” Far below him 
lay the Hudson, and to his left were a row of 
officers’ quarters, the Hospital, Mess Hall, and 
Academic Building ; and, yes, that vine-clad 
structure he had passed at the bend of the road 
must be the Riding Hall, while over yonder 
through the trees were the Chapel and Library, 
with a glimpse between them of the cavalry plain 
and distant camp. 

Everything looked exactly as Jack Stirling 
expected it to look. It was the same old West 
Point of his father’s day, the West Point for which 
he had been preparing himself since childhood, 
and surely his father’s Alma Mater greeted him 
in her tenderest mood, perhaps recognizing that 
here was stuff for the making of an officer and a 
gentleman. 

Just then a slender young fellow, whom Stirling 
had noticed on the boat, dragged wearily into 
sight around the bend of the road. He was stooped, 
narrow chested, and rather sallow, but withal 
young-eyed and eager. On reaching the top of 
the hill he stopped as Jack had done, to look 
down on the Hudson between its green banks, 
and, though breathing rather hard from the climb, 


10 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


he turned impulsively to his companion with a 
murmured word of admiration. 

Jack liked him at once. 

“ I say,” he began boyishly, “ I noticed you on 
the boat coming up. Are you a candidate too? ” 

The other’s thin face lightened with a smile 
to match Jack’s own, and putting down his heavy 
suit case he held out a hand in greeting. 

“ That ‘ too ’ of yours makes me more than 
glad to know you, Mr. — Mr. — ” he stopped 
confusedly. 

Stirling mentioned his name and wrung the 
outstretched hand with a heartiness not to be 
mistaken. 

“ And I’m John Raymond of Missouri,” his 
companion went on in a tone which indicated 
that like Paul of Tarsus he felt himself a citizen 
of no mean city. “I’m sorry we didn’t meet on 
the way up,” he continued, “ but I was so busy 
studying for the coming examinations that it’s 
a wonder I knew when we finally reached West 
Point.” 

“ I don’t see how you could have buckled down 
to work on a day like this,” Stirling laughed, “ or 
are you already * boning ’ to stand one in the 
class? ” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 11 • 

Raymond promptly disclaimed any such am- 
bition, and went on to say that having heard by 
chance of the competitive examination in his 
district he had taken it at an hour’s notice. To 
his own great surprise he had won the appoint- 
ment, then managing to scrape enough money 
together, he had come on to West Point for the 
finals. Stirling would understand that he felt 
obliged to work in season and out, for naturally 
he didn’t want to fail at the examinations, espe- 
cially as he had given up a good business oppor- 
tunity to complete his education at West Point 
free of cost, his University course having been cut 
short several years before by his father’s death. 

During this recital the army boy’s eyes widened 
in amazement. 

“ Then you just came to West Point because 
you couldn’t afford to go to another college? ” 
he gasped. “You never heard of the place before 
last month ? You don’t expect to go into the army 
when you graduate? You don’t want to? Why, 
I’ve been preparing myself for this appointment 
all my life, and if I fail — ” the muscles around 
the firm mouth quivered, “ if I fail I’m going to 
enlist. I couldn’t be happy out of the army.” 

This time the civilian stared. 


12 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ I can’t imagine a lazier life in time of peace,” 
he said thoughtlessly, “ and in time of war any 
able-bodied young man would offer his services 
to the country. I understand, though, on gradu- 
ating from West Point it isn’t necessary to join 
the army unless one wants to. My congressman 
assured me of that before I took the competitive 
examination.” 

Not necessary to join the army! His congress- 
man had assured him of that! Jack Stirling, to 
whom the army meant everything in life, grew 
very red, started impulsively to say something 
that would teach this civilian what a mistaken 
idea his was. And then, because criticism was 
quite foreign to his nature, so quick to see the 
good in others, so slow to realize their faults, he 
held his peace ; while Raymond, quite unconscious 
that there had been even a momentary suspension 
of their friendly relations, went on to say that he 
“ reckoned ” the instruction at the Military 
Academy was about as good as he could have had 
at the University, if only they didn’t waste so 
much time on drills and parades and exercises. 

Waste time on military evolutions of any sort! 
It is a marvel Jack Stirling survived the shock. 
Was it possible, he wondered, that a Providence 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


13 


who had the army’s welfare at heart could let 
anything so unsoldier-like pass the first examina- 
tion? Was this the stuff officers were made of? 
Why, he might be a member of the Peace Com- 
mission ; a living, breathing flag of truce ; a man 
who knew no utility for a sword except to turn 
it into a plowshare. 

If Raymond had declared himself a pickpocket, 
a swindler, a thief, or a highwayman the army 
boy could not have been more scandalized, but 
as usual he bridled his tongue, and through 
the rose coloured glasses of optimism tried to see 
Raymond not as he was, but as he ought to be. 

Perhaps there was the making of a soldier in 
him after all. One never could tell. Stirling 
remembered that in the old days some of the 
most unlikely “ rookies ” turned out to be the 
best cavalrymen. There was Dodson of E troop 
who spent most of his first year in the guard- 
house, when he called a sudden halt on himself, 
passed through all the non-commissioned grades, 
and finally was made a lieutenant in the regular 
service, developing into a most efficient officer 
and one of Jack’s best friends. Even nearer home 
was the “ kid recruit ” of his father’s own troop, 
a worthless youngster, apparently, until taken 


14 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


in hand by Sergeant Donnelly, when he quickly 
developed into a rattling good soldier and won 
his spurs within a year. There was Donnelly 
himself, dear old Donnelly, who had worked up 
from a no-account private in the rear rank to the 
first sergeant of the troop, and this despite his 
lack of education. 

Early in their talk Raymond had said he was 
twenty-one, while Jack, who would be nineteen 
on his next birthday, topped him half a head and 
outweighed him by twenty-five pounds. How 
stooped the boy was, too, how narrow chested, 
how pale. Desk work, thought Jack, and yes, 
Raymond had said something about being in busi- 
ness for himself, which proved him a fellow of 
considerable resource, despite his lamentable 
ignorance of that most noble institution, the 
army. 

Just then a hotel omnibus, crowded with laugh- 
ing girls, passed them. Behind this conveyance 
came a broken down carriage from the local 
livery stable. It was drawn by a hacked and 
dispirited horse, the whole outfit being in marked 
contrast to the solitary occupant of the landau, 
a tall, distinguished looking fellow, dressed in the 
height of style and sporting a monocle. His 


AS PLEBE . AND YEARLING 


15 


luggage, piled on the top of the carriage, was cov- 
ered with foreign labels, and on the end of a suit 
case Jack noticed the initials “ T. W. W.” 

Turning to Raymond he said carelessly: 

“ There goes another of the class, for if I’m 
not mistaken that was Tom Winthrop of Washing- 
ton. I didn’t see his face, but the initials on the 
suit case are his, and I’m sure there’s but one 
checked suit like that in the world, and Winthrop 
introduced me to it at his father’s country place 
day before yesterday.” 

“You don’t mean to say that was the son of 
the Secretary of State? ” Raymond breathed in 
an awed voice. 

“ Why, yes,” answered Jack indifferently, and 
wondered at the other’s incredulous amazement, 
for politics meant to the boy from the West what 
army meant to the one bom in the service. 

A moment later they parted at the Adminis- 
tration Building, Jack Stirling to make his presence 
known at once to the Commandant, who was an 
old friend of the family, John Raymond to 
report directly to the Adjutant. 


CHAPTER TWO 


It was late afternoon when Jack finally left 
the Commandant’s quarters, his hostess having 
to be told over and over every bit of news pertain- 
ing to the little garrison in Arizona, and especially 
that relative to the Stirling family. Moreover, 
Jack discovered in the young girl visiting there 
a playmate of the old Montana days, Marie 
Harding, the daughter of the regiment’s former 
colonel. She proved to be a jolly, companionable 
sort of girl, whom Jack found it hard to reconcile 
with the beruffled little person he remembered, 
and at the luncheon that followed close on his 
arrival, they had many a hearty laugh over their 
reminiscences of nine years before, the Com- 
mandant and his wife bringing up several inci- 
dents that might otherwise have been forgotten. 

“ You’ve grown somewhat younger than I 
remember you,” Marie had laughed on first greet- 
ing Jack, “for I always used to think of you as a 
contemporary of my father’s, and was never 
quite sure when he returned your salute so sol- 
16 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


17 


emnly on the board walk, whether you were 
really a captain in the regular service or just 
a little boy dressed up in soldier clothes. 

“ Then, too, the fact that you didn’t go to the 
post school, or even to the dancing school, con- 
vinced me you were made of different stuff from 
the rest of us, and I used to watch your military 
formations from a distance, perfectly willing to 
have sacrificed my family of dolls and joined the 
regiment even as ‘ Full-private, Number One 
in the awkward squad! ’ ” 

Jack laughed. 

“ I had no idea you were so martial in your 
tastes,” he excused himself, “or I might have 
offered you a commission in the regiment, even 
though you were a girl, and such a very little girl.” 

“ Marie’s only a year younger than you are, 
Jack,” put in the Commandant’s wife, “ and while 
she was small for her age you will have to admit 
that she’s made up for lost time once she really 
started to grow.” 

Almost as tall as Jack himself, and with a fine 
carriage of the head and shoulders, Marie Harding 
was undeniably handsome. There was about her 
an almost boyish absence of affectation, a refresh- 
ing directness of manner, and an air of good 


18 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


comradeship that appealed to Stirling immedi- 
ately. In fact she was just the sort of girl a 
fellow would have liked for a sister, and before 
luncheon was over they were the best of friends, 
and Stirling wondered why they had not known 
each other better in those far off Montana days. 

Altogether his visit to the Commandant’s 
was so homelike and pleasant, that the boy felt 
a pang of regret he must forego the friendly inter- 
course once he had reported to the Adjutant for, 
with his father, he felt it would be better to culti- 
vate no old acquaintances, nor make any new 
ones on the post until after he had “ shed his 
plebe skin ” the following June. 

All this he confided to the Commandant’s 
wife, Marie having gone out on the wide veranda 
to entertain a lot of yearling callers, and the 
Commandant’s wife, understanding West Point 
customs, acquiesced after a compromise on an 
occasional Saturday evening supper with nobody 
else invited, unless it should be a classmate or 
two of Jack’s own. 

As they discussed the coming examination and 
Jack’s chance of passing, the light talk and 
laughter on the veranda floated in through the 
half closed blinds to where the candidate, grown 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


19 


a little uneasy, waited for the yearlings to take 
their departure before he could be about his own 
business; for army boy that he was, he realized 
it would be considered a great breach of plebe 
etiquette to be caught doing “ social stunts ” his 
first day on the post. 

“ I’m afraid you’ll have to let me out the back 
way,” he said at last to the Commandant’s wife, 
“ for I must get to the Adjutant’s office by three 
o’clock, you know.” But even as he said it, 
the veranda chairs were pushed aside with a 
thunderous racket, and the gray-coated, wasp- 
waisted young fellows said good-bye, one re- 
minding Miss Harding not to forget his band 
concert, another clamouring for a walk after 
guard-mounting in the morning, and still another 
referring to dances she had promised him at the 
next hop. 

Jack, watching his opportunity to slip out un- 
noticed, thought they would never go, but at 
last the gate shut behind them, and aided and 
abetted by the Commandant’s wife, who was 
shaking with suppressed laughter, he darted 
through the half-open door, only to run pell-mell 
into a fresh batch of yearlings trooping up the 
broad steps. 


20 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Even then everything might have gone well 
if Marie Harding, in all innocence, and very happy 
at having her new friends meet this old friend, 
had not stopped him in his mad flight and insisted 
on introducing him to each and every one of the 
yearlings. Brimming over with amusing stories 
of Jack’s boyhood, the girl assumed in a gracious 
little way all her own, that she was sure the year- 
lings would make it pleasant for Mr. Stirling in 
plebe camp, that gentleman meanwhile being 
covered with a confusion so patent that the 
Commandant’s plump wife straightway retired 
to the cool darkness of the drawing room, where 
she gave herself up to unrestrained mirth. 

Naturally the yearlings were charmed to meet 
Miss Harding’s old friend, and after his em- 
barrassed departure begged to know more of his 
early life and achievements. So Marie, nothing 
loth, told them everything she could remember, 
even to the fact that he had once been chased by 
Apaches and barely escaped with his life. 

What more she might have evolved from her too 
accurate memory is not known, for the Com- 
mandant’s wife, still rather red and breathless, 
came out on the veranda and changed the topic 
of conversation; while Jack, hurrying toward the 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


21 


Administration Building as if again pursued by 
hostile Indians, suffered in anticipation the hazing 
he would have to undergo in plebe camp because 
of Marie’s inadvertence. 

At the Adjutant’s office he found an old-time 
friend in Captain Richards, who well remembered 
the boy’s martial ambitions years before at a 
frontier post, where his own small son Dick, now 
a Yale freshman, had “ played soldier ” with 
Jack on the reservation back of the garrison. 

“ He’s as well set-up already as most yearlings,” 
thought the Adjutant, his eyes resting approvingly 
on the alert young figure before him, “ and of 
course, being Jack Stirling, he reported himself * 
properly, the only man among them that knew 
how to stand at attention or had the least idea 
what to say! It’s seldom that a cadet comes to 
West Point as high-minded and manly and 
courageous as he leaves it, and I am wondering 
if Stirling’s influence over the plebes will not be 
as great as that of the yearlings themselves.” 

Then the Adjutant ran his eyes perfunctorily 
over the papers handed him by Stirling, asked a 
few official questions, gave him a sealed envelope, 
and dismissed him curtly, though a queer little 
smile ambushed itself behind his moustache, as 


22 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


the boy faced about and made for the door with- 
out a sign of recognition. 

Used to the customs of the service, Jack Stirling, 
in reporting officially to his superior officer, 
had not presumed upon their friendship of many 
years’ standing, but was as uncompromisingly 
\ military as if the Adjutant had been a stranger, 
and the Adjutant, to test him, had not shown by 
even a look that he remembered the boy perfectly. 

In like manner Stirling registered himself across 
the hall, turned over his money to the Treasurer, 
and passed his physical examination at the Hospi- 
tal. Then came the ordeal of meeting the cadet 
officers in barracks, but here Jack’s military train- 
ing stood him in such good stead that even the 
young martinet in charge had no fault to find 
with him, while the cadet corporal who escorted 
Stirling across the area of barracks to his room, 
did it with a certain official courtesy of manner, 
very unlike his treatment of the other plebes. 

Up three flights of stairs they marched to a 
“ plain room ” in the fourth division, where after 
a few orders as to his future conduct, Jack was 
left alone. For a moment he stood there, still 
maintaining the position of a soldier, but his heart 
beat rapidly at the thought that he was really at 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


23 


West Point and in barracks — “ beast barracks/’ 
to be sure, but if he passed the mental examina- 
tion, as he fully expected to, he would soon be a 
full fledged cadet in West Point gray. 

From his window he could see the camp across 
the cavalry plain ; a long stretch of parade ground, 
green as a well kept lawn; the Professors’ Row 
with its air of quiet dignity ; and beyond the guns 
of Trophy Point the Hudson, stretching out be- 
tween its verdant banks. To the right of Trophy 
Point on the veranda of the West Point Hotel he 
could distinguish the flutter of light dresses, and 
this side the hedge a sprinkling of gray-coated 
figures twinkling in and out among the trees. 

The hedge which separated camp from the hotel 
was a tall one, and many generations of graduates 
had tried to jump it on that last glorious charge 
across the cavalry plain, tradition having it that 
this graduate or the other had accomplished the 
feat; but however that may have been, it was well 
known that each class had some reckless spirit 
that tried to do it, did luck give him first or second 
choice of horses. Among others, Jack’s father 
attempted the jump, and in consequence received 
his diploma the next day on crutches, notwith- 
standing which, Jack, as he stood there in “beast 


24 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


barracks,” not only jumped the hedge in imagi- 
nation, but the four years intervening as well. 

Meanwhile Stirling’s new found friend, John 
Raymond of Missouri, had gone through what 
seemed to him a bewildering amount of red-tape 
at the Administration Building, the Hospital, 
where he took his physical examination, and 
the Treasurer’s office ; after which, through a mis- 
take on his part, he started towards Cadet Bar- 
racks without waiting for the half dozen other 
candidates who had reported with him. Men of 
all sorts and conditions they were, from Riggs, 
a navy boy thoroughly presentable and sure of 
himself, to big Bayard of Kentucky, provincial, 
uncouth, a red-faced martyr to his first high 
collar, and doing penance for many bare-foot days 
in shoes so tight that he could scarcely walk in 
them. 

Crossing over from the Administration Build- 
ing, Raymond, absorbed in his own thoughts, 
ran full tilt into two gray-coated figures, or to 
speak more accurately the cadets, at some little 
trouble to themselves, bumped into Raymond. 

“A thousand pardons,” murmured one of the 
young gentlemen with affected concern, “ I trust 
most earnestly we have not inconvenienced you? 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


25 


No? I’m so glad! If I mistake not you are a can- 
didate for admission to our — er — happy home?” 

Raymond, who had heard many tales of the 
horrors of West Point hazing, nodded a startled 
acquiescence and was about to speak, when the 
younger of the two men cut in with a brusque: 

“ Of course he’s a ‘ beast,’ Bonnaffan, can’t 
you tell it to look at him? ” 

“ But his home paper refers to him as a leading 
young citizen of the town,” protested Bonnaffan, 
“ and confidently predicts that he will rank his 
class at West Point, notwithstanding he has to 
contend with a hundred young men picked from 
among the best in their communities all over the 
United States! ” 

Raymond flushed guiltily, for in his pocket at 
that moment was a clipping from the “ Argosy ” 
which said those very things about him, and how 
was he to know that every candidate had a similar 
eulogy carefully folded away among his belong- 
ings or else left as a legacy to the relatives at home? 

“ He’s a handsome, well-bred fellow,” mur- 
mured the older of the two cadets in a tone calcu- 
lated to make a man of any spirit long to knock 
him down, and then in a still lower tone, as one 
talks of a child before its face, he continued: 


26 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ From even one look at that noble brow, Graham, 
I’m sure our young friend is predestined to be yet 
another Grant or Sherman or Sheridan. There is 
unmistakable genius in those soulful eyes, while 
his whole manly bearing but confirms my belief 
that we have before us a major-general in em- 
bryo; unless, indeed, after the examination he 
decides, like Cincinnatus, to return indignant 
to the slighted plow.” 

Raymond, trembling with rage, started to make 
some kind of rejoinder to this baiting, but the other 
cadet cut in with a sharp: 

“ Have you reported yet, Mister? ” 

There was a warning note in the question, and 
Raymond replied somewhat sulkily that he was 
even then looking for the person to whom he 
should report. 

“ Person! ” howled a scandalized voice, “ person, 
indeed! Do you realize, my esteemed young 
friend, that you are speaking of the Adjutant of 
the United States Military Academy, and that 
he has been detailed to that exalted position by 
His Excellency the President? ” 

This last was sententiously mouthed, rather 
than spoken, and Raymond, a little awed in spite 
of himself, hastily explained that he was not 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


27 


referring to the Adjutant as, in fact, he had 
already been to that gentleman’s office, and was 
about to report to the cadet officer detailed to 
receive candidates. 

“ So it was the cadet officer you referred to as 
a * person,’ my poor misguided young friend,” 
put in the milder of the two men, his very mild- 
ness having a sinister note that Raymond felt 
more keenly than the frank incivility of the other. 
“ You will doubtless be asked to explain why you 
spoke so slightingly of him, once you are admitted 
to his presence, sir. And now, as we are going in 
the same direction, ’twill be a mournful privilege 
to see you to your doom! ” 

On the way to barracks it developed from skil- 
ful questioning on the part of the younger cadet 
that Raymond was from Missouri, and had at- 
tended the University there three years before. 
The mild mannered man affected great pleasure. 
It was possible Mr. er — Raymond, was it? — 
knew a chum of his at Columbia graduating the 
next June. 

Raymond, homesick as he was for anything 
pertaining to his native soil, was off his guard in 
an instant. 

“I’m sure I know him,” he answered, flushing 


28 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


with pleasure, “ for that was my own class. What 
is your friend’s name? ” 

The mild mannered man looked at him 
coldly. 

“ It is not customary at West Point, Mr. — er 

— Hammond — Raymond — whatever your 
name is — to catechize an upper classman on any 
subject. That is his province, not yours. It is 
incredible that a man of your seeming intelligence 
cannot answer a simple question without first 
asking one, but I shall overlook your bad military 
manners and once again ask if you know my 
friend? ” 

Raymond felt insulted. 

“ No, sir, I don’t! ” he snapped crossly. 

The mild mannered one was milder than ever. 

“ How do you know you don’t know him? ” 
he queried in his softest voice. 

Raymond was growing nervous. 

“ I don’t know I don’t know — ” he stam- 
mered, “ that is, I don’t know that I don’t kno\Y 

— er — ” but the mild mannered one interrupted 
with a sneering: 

“ No, at present you don't know that you don’t 
know, Mister, but in about five minutes you’ll 
know you don’t know anything! ” whereupon the 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


29 


two cadets disappeared behind a closed door on 
which was a sign in large characters: 

(1) See that your coat is buttoned and 

ALL SUPERFLUOUS ORNAMENTS ARE REMOVED 
OR COVERED. 

(2) Take off your hat and leave it out- 
side. 

(3) KNOCK AND WAIT UNTIL INVITATION IS 
GIVEN TO ENTER. 

(4) After entering, stand at attention. 

(5) Do NOT SPEAK UNTIL YOU ARE SPOKEN TO. 

(6) Answer all questions promptly, briefly, 

AND RESPECTFULLY. 

As Raymond stood there reading these instruc- 
tions, the half dozen other candidates were 
brought over from the Adjutant’s office by an 
orderly, and Raymond regretted the misunder- 
standing that had sent him on ahead of them, 
for like the proverbial worm that was up betimes, 
he had been caught by the early bird. 

“ They are worse than I imagined in my wildest 
dreams,” he confided to the young fellows 
gathered anxiously around him. “ You wouldn’t 
credit how insulting they can be! It’s ten to one 


30 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


I’ll have a fight on my hands before the day is 
over.” 

“ Oh, no, you won’t,” put in little Riggs, the 
navy boy. “ You’ve got to stand their hard talk 
and harder treatment, for if you fight once you’ll 
have to fight a hundred times. Of course you 
wouldn’t be expected to take a personal insult, but 
there seems to be no trouble of that kind here.” 

Little Riggs spoke with authority, his brother 
having graduated at West Point the preceding 
June, and as Riggs himself had spent six months 
at the Naval Academy, what that young gentle- 
man did not know about both institutions was 
not worth knowing, in his own opinion, at least. 

“ But it’s all so grotesque,” complained Ray- 
mond, “ especially to one accustomed to the 
freedom of western civilian life.” 

Riggs grinned delightedly. 

“ Already you’re beginning to speak of yourself 
as no longer a civilian, Raymond, and after a week 
or two of the discipline here you’ll forget you 
ever were a civilian, and will look back on your 
little encounter this morning as a mere bag- 
atelle.” 

“ But — but what will they do to us? ” stam- 
mered an undersized, anemic looking boy who had 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


31 


been listening to the conversation, his eyes and 
mouth wide open, his thin shoulders drooping de- 
jectedly forward. “ I didn’t suppose I was coming 
to anything like this. My congressman didn’t 
give me a hint of the sort of place it was. I only 
knew that I was to get a good education free for 
nothin’, and so, bein’ ‘ physically and mentally 
qualified for the position,’ I come. But before I 
agree to stay, I want to know what they’re goin’ 
to do to me? ” 

Riggs looked into the pinched, ugly face of 
Sampson from Tennessee, and laughed. 

“ Well, you needn’t be afraid they’ll spoil your 
beauty, Sammy dear,” he said consolingly, at 
which the general gloom seemed to lighten a little, 
though a moment later he plunged them all into 
darkness again by remarking that somebody ought 
to beard the lion in his den. 

No one seeming anxious to play Daniel, Riggs 
volunteered to go first, drawing his forehead down 
into comical furrows as he read the notice aloud. 
When he came to the third requirement, “ See 
that your coat is buttoned,” Raymond gave an 
apologetic little laugh. 

“ But they couldn’t expect me to button this 
sack suit,” he ventured. “ See! It isn’t made 


32 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


to button,” and he drew the smartly cut garment 
across his chest with absurd effect. 

As he spoke, the door was suddenly opened and 
the younger of the two cadets who had accosted 
Raymond appeared on the threshold. There 
was a momentary glimpse of several gray-coated 
figures lounging around in comfortable attitudes, 
and then the door closed sharply. 

The cadet looked around him with quizzical 
eyes. 

“ It appears to me that you young gentlemen 
are rather deliberate about reporting,” he began, 
and catching sight of Raymond: “ As you were 
the first to arrive on the scene, Mr. Raymond, I 
should advise you to be the first to report, or you 
may hear something not altogether to your 
advantage.” Then the shadow of a smile crossed 
his handsome mouth as he concluded: 

“ I regret exceedingly, gentlemen, that official 
duties prevent my being present on this auspi- 
cious occasion!” and with a twinkle of brass 
buttons, a gleam of spotless white trousers, and 
the swish of a long- tailed dress coat, Cadet 
Corporal Graham was down the iron flight of 
stairs, three steps at a time. 





TURNED THE KNOB WITH A MOST UNSTEADY HAND 














CHAPTER THREE 


So it happened that John Raymond was the 
first to cross the threshold of that Bluebeard’s 
chamber to the candidate. With a final look at 
the printed directions and a heart whose excited 
beating was well nigh audible he gave a timid 
knock on the dread door, and at the gruff “ Come 
in,” turned the knob with a most unsteady hand. 
In his trepidation he had forgotten to leave his 
hat outside, and at the same instant that his heart, 
by a wild leap, told him of his error a dozen voices 
shrieked it in chorus, commanding him further 
to take that hat outside instantly, and not to enter 
before he could do so properly. 

Retreating in all haste, Raymond deposited his 
hat on the floor, nor did one of the awed plebes 
give way to even a ghost of a smile as once again 
he entered the room. Not deeming it necessary 
to knock twice, Raymond started in the second 
time without the preliminary rap, only to be met 
on the threshold by louder yells than ever, which 
told him in various keys that he must always 


34 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


knock at a superior officer’s door and await 
permission to enter. Also, would he kindly tell 
them why he had come into the presence of gentle- 
men without buttoning up his coat? 

Straining the nobby little garment across his 
chest and knocking gently at the door, Raymond 
made his third attempt to bridge the distance 
that separates the citizen from the soldier, and 
this time more successfully; though even then 
they objected to his clothes, the way his hair was 
cut, the fit of his collar, the fact that he wore a 
stick pin in his tie, the colour of his soft shirt, 
the make of his boots, and above all else the fact 
that he had dared to come into the Military Pres- 
ence with a flower in his buttonhole. 

Meanwhile he had been made to stand per- 
fectly erect, with eyes straight to the front, hands 
rigidly at his sides, and shoulders thrown back 
almost to the breaking point, the Gray Coats 
gathered around him in a menacing half circle. 

At one side of the room sat a tall, handsome, 
square-shouldered cadet busily writing, and ap- 
parently unconscious of Raymond’s presence or 
the bedlam of noise around him. He bore a dis- 
tant resemblance to Will Faulkner, whom Ray- 
mond had known at the University, and with 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


35 


a sudden leap of his pulses the boy remembered 
that Will had a brother at West Point, and as he 
had entered the year Raymond left Columbia, 
it would put him in the present first class. 

Obeying the injunction to keep his eyes straight 
to the front, Raymond had an oportunity to study 
the clear profile and closely cropped brown 
head, which seemed more and more like Will 
Faulkner’s with every minute that passed, the 
sight of a face familiar in resemblance only making 
him realize keenly how homesick and miserable he 
was, and how utterly out of touch with his sur- 
roundings. 

But the Inquisition was at work and he must 
answer questions promptly, or face the conse- 
quences. 

“ What’s your name? ” asked one of the Gray 
Coats. 

“ John Raymond,” answered the boy, flushing 
sensitively at the manner in which the question 
was flung at him. 

“ John Raymond, what ? ” yelled the Gray 
Coat. “ Don’t you know enough to address your 
superiors as ‘ sir , 9 Mr. Raymond? Remember 
in the future to always add that title of respect 
whenever answering questions at West Point. 


36 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Also, nobody cares to know your first name. You 
are Mr. Raymond from now on. Do you under- 
stand, Mr. Raymond? ” 

“Yes, sir” answered the boy with what to one 
who knew him well would have indicated a rising 
temper, but the Gray Coat seemed mollified. 

“ Now once again, what’s your name? ” he 
asked, and this time so much more pleasantly 
that the boy was reassured. 

“ Mr. Raymond, sir,” he flashed back with 
a sudden smile of comprehension that showed he 
would soon learn to accept the hazing in good 
part. 

But smiles are not regulation, and Sir Gray 
Coat was annoyed. He frowned heavily and 
brought his face within an inch of Raymond’s. 

“ Wipe off that smile! ” he hissed savagely. 
“I’d like to know why you’re flinging your teeth 
in my direction. When I want you to look at me 
in that tone of voice I’ll order you to do it, and 
meanwhile you’re to keep your risibles under 
better control. Understand? You’re to grin on 
order only. See? ” Raymond both saw and 
understood, but failed to add the necessary “ sir ” 
when communicating this new found intelligence 
to the Gray Coat, whereupon there was another 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


37 


outburst of wrath and another long catechism 
wherein the answers were invariably concluded 
with the compulsory title of address. 

At last this stem inquisitor gave way to a 
second Gray Coat, the mild mannered cadet 
Raymond had met on the way to barracks, and 
his suavity and condescension were more offen- 
sive than ever. Among other things, he asked 
Raymond where he was from and this notwith- 
standing he had already been told. Raymond 
bit his lip. 

“ From Missouri, sir,” he answered with the 
sullen look in his eyes of an animal teased almost 
beyond endurance. 

4 ‘ Missouri ! ’ ’ echoed the Gray Coat. ‘ ‘ Missouri ! 
Well, couldn’t you have chosen a better state than 
that? Though I’m sure if you can stand hailing 
from the com and hog belt, we ought to be able 
to put up with it, too. Only it argues such very 
bad taste on your part, Mr. — er, Raymond, isn’t 
it? — that I’m afraid even a course of instmction 
under our professor of Art will never give you the 
proper values of perspective and proportion. 
Think of owning up unblushingly to coming from 
Missouri! ” he appealed to the others. 

John Raymond, high-tempered, hot-headed, 


38 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


impetuous, marvelled at his own forbearance. 
That he should stand there silently and hear 
Missouri reviled was almost unbelievable. But 
he clenched his jaw hard and pinched his lips 
into a thin red line, waiting — waiting. 

At last a third Gray Coat broke in upon the 
incredulous amazement of the second gentleman, 
who was still effervescing with remarks not alto- 
gether complimentary to Raymond’s native state. 

“ Do my ears deceive me, Mr. Raymond,” 
he began, “ or did you really say you came 
from — But, no ! It is not fair to judge a man 
without allowing him a word in self-defence, so 
once again in all kindness, I ask, where are you 
from, Mr. Raymond? ” 

Choking with rage, the candidate managed to 
blurt out a second time that he was from Missouri, 
sir. 

The Gray Coat looked at him commiseratingly. 

“ It’s worse than a hunchback,” he whispered 
in an audible aside to one of the other cadets. 
“ Do you suppose the Adjutant realized he was 
from Missouri when he reported himself this 
morning? ” and turning to Raymond, he said 
more gravely still: 

“I’m sorry for you, Mr. Raymond. In fact you 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


39 


have the sympathy of the whole Corps, for of 
course you couldn’t help coming from Missouri. 
It’s your misfortune, not your fault. Still you 
must learn to pronounce the name of your miser- 
able state correctly. It is called Mizzoura on the 
stage and in dialect novels, not Missouri — 
Mizzoura, do you understand? Now once again, 
where are you from Mr. Raymond? ” 

For one perceptible second John Raymond 
hesitated, then he dug his nails into the palms 
of his clenched hand, drew a long breath, and faced 
his tormentors squarely. 

“I’m from Missouri , sir,” he answered dog- 
gedly. “ Missouri , sir! ” 

Instantly pandemonium raged. A plebe, no, 
worse still, a conditional plebe, a candidate, 
“ a beast,” in the parlance of the Point, had dared 
to question the majesty of military law. He had 
wilfully disobeyed an order given him by a 
superior. He was insubordinate, in cadet language 
“ B. J.” It was unheard of, monstrous, incon- 
ceivable. 

Raymond, pale but determined, stood his 
ground. He would do anything in reason that 
they wanted him to do. He would look straight 
ahead and not at the person addressed. He 


40 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


would stand like a manikin in a shop window, 
head up, shoulders back, hands at his sides, feet 
turned out at an angle of sixty degrees. He would 
do everything prescribed in the regulations. He 
would even abide by the absurd customs of the 
place. He would accept these striplings as his 
superiors and treat them accordingly. He would 
do everything — anything — except call his 
native state by that absurd misnomer. It was 
not only undignified, it was sacrilegious, as if 
they had changed his stately mother’s name of 
Sara to Sal. He grew paler at the thought, and 
his stubborn jaw hardened as he clenched his 
teeth together. 

How he hated the Academy! How he scorned 
those silly boys with their stiff, unnatural attitudes, 
their exaggerated ideas of their own importance, 
their childish methods of hazing. Why, he was 
a grown man, twenty-one his last birthday. He 
had been in business for himself. In his own 
community he was a person of no small power 
and position. He had even voted, and his opinion 
was valued at the town councils, though who 
would have thought it to see him now at the mercy 
of these howling youngsters, the butt of their 
feeble jokes, the target of their immature wit. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


41 


Despite his incendiary thoughts, Raymond kept 
the prescribed military attitude which he had been 
forced to assume at the outset, and if anything 
he held his head a trifle higher, his shoulders 
squarer than ever, for he felt exalted, carried 
away by his own enthusiasm, as if he were de- 
fending the good name of his mother, and he 
thrilled at the thought that they could kill him 
before he would dishonour his native state to suit 
their perverted sense of humour. 

Mizzoura indeed! 

The uproar grew in volume, and still Raymond 
stood there motionless, unconscious alike of their 
attempted witticisms or their threats. 

Suddenly he felt himself drawn into a comer 
of the room by the tall, distinguished looking 
man he had noticed on first entering, the only 
one there who had not joined in the chorus of de- 
nunciation. 

“ Mr. Raymond,” he began in a low voice, 
but one that was singularly quick and decisive, 
“ a little word of advice from one Missourian to 
another.” 

A Missourian ! Then he probably was Faulkner’s 
brother, after all. Raymond flushed with delight 
at the thought. 


42 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“You must remember you are now under mili- 
tary discipline,” went on the. low voice quietly. 
“ So obey whatever you are told without question. 
Later, if you feel you have been asked to do some- 
thing unworthy, there is a higher authority to 
whom you can appeal. It is evident you are a 
loyal Missourian, Mr. Raymond. That argues you 
are probably a loyal American, as well, and a loyal 
American with military training makes a good 
soldier. But the first step towards being a good 
soldier is to obey promptly and without question.” 

What a new way to look at it all, and from a 
Missourian, too! Raymond flashed a grateful 
smile at the man beside him, but before he could 
speak the older cadet went on, an unmistakable 
ring of authority in his voice, low pitched though it 
was. 

“ No thanks, please. I just wanted to save you 
from making a fool of yourself, that’s all. Why, 
man alive, the yearling that made you so huffy 
is from Missouri himself. He’s a Caldwell County 
fellow. I shouldn’t trouble to tell you this except 
I hear from my brother, Will Faulkner, that you 
and he were chums at Columbia. He asked me 
to look out for you, and — ” the low voice trailed 
off, to ring out suddenly with a sharp: 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


43 


“ There now, do what I say, and do it quickly! ” 
The change was so sudden and the voice so per- 
emptory that Raymond jumped in spite of him- 
self, not having noticed, as Faulkner had, that 
the other cadets were gathering around them. 
Again Faulkner’s voice rang out : 

“ Shoulders back, Mr. Raymond, heels closer 
together, head up. Ah ! that’s better. And now 
once again, Mr. Raymond, where did you say 
you were from, sir? ” 

There was not a glint of kindness in the face, no 
indication that a moment before he had spoken in 
the most friendly way. Still, the boy seemed to 
understand. Hazing at West Point differed from 
the hazing he had experienced at the University. 
There it was badgering, pure and simple. Here 
it spelled the first principle of military discipline. 

Then, too, Faulkner himself was a Missourian, 
and he had said that the cadet who incensed 
Raymond so bitterly but a few moments before 
was a Caldwell County boy, so of course he had 
meant no disrespect to the state. Raymond felt 
in a shamefaced way that he had had heroics over 
nothing. It was all part of the West Point life, 
a uiiit in the integral of discipline. Yet he had 
taken himself as seriously as did that actor men- 


44 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


tioned in Nicholas Nickleby, who whenever he 
played Othello blacked himself all over. 

Once again Faulkner spoke, and this time 
his voice was like one about to order a military 
execution. Ready! Aim! Fire! Though what 
he really said was : 

“ Well, Mr. Raymond. We are waiting. What 
state are you from, sir? ” 

“From — from Mizzoura, sir!” came the an- 
swer, and to his surprise Raymond had to bite 
his lips to keep from laughing outright at the in- 
credulous expression on the face of the Caldwell 
County boy. But he stood awkwardly stiff and 
straight, his little fingers on the seams of his 
trousers, his eyes straight to the front, his shoulders 
thrown back as he had never held them in all his 
twenty-one years. 

“ Yes, you’re from Mizzoura, Mr. Raymond,” 
resumed his interlocutor, “ and we wish it under- 
stood that if in the future one of your superior 
officers should tell you to call your native state — 
well, say Mizzoo, it must be done. Do you under- 
stand, Mr. Raymond? ” 

“Yes, Mizzoo — I — I mean, sir” stammered 
Raymond, and so won the nickname that dung 
to him throughout his stay at the Academy. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


45 


A few more questions respectfully answered, 
a few more rules on military etiquette repeated 
parrot-like, a few more uncomplimentary remarks 
on his gait, his carriage, the way he held his head, 
and John Raymond of Missouri, very red, very 
stiff as to shoulders, his chin and stomach drawn 
in unnaturally, his chest thrown out so that the 
sack coat strained at its one button, walked past 
the other candidates on his way to the quarters 
assigned him on the third floor of the eighth divi- 
sion in barracks. 

Accompanied by Cadet Corporal Burnham, 
he looked neither to the right nor left, but out of 
his starboard eye he saw the other candidates 
watching him wonderingly, and grinned within 
himself as he heard the door close upon little 

Riggs- 

A moment later he was shown to a small, ill- 
lighted room overlooking the area. Its furniture 
consisted of two iron beds, separated by an alcove, 
a wooden table, a clothes-press, and two chairs, 
while the one window, though spotlessly clean, 
was innocent of even a shade. 

The cadet corporal restrained a smile as he saw 
the dismay on the plebe’s face. 

44 Well, Mister, you don’t consider this room 


46 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


good enough for you, I suppose? ” he inquired 
sarcastically. “Yet it was occupied by distin- 
guished generals in their day. What did you 
expect, may I ask? Lace curtains? Oil paintings? 
Louis Fourteenth furniture? ” 

Raymond flushed uneasily. He was not quite 
sure if the tirade needed an answer or not, but 
the cadet corporal evidently 'expected no reply, 
for he continued to rage like the Biblical heathen, 
ending up by showing Raymond how he must 
stand at attention the moment one of his superior 
officers entered the room, and how quickly he 
must obey the order for candidates to turn out 
promptly, in addition to which he was instructed 
not to go near the window or into the alcove, 
this leaving a space about ten feet square as neutral 
territory. 

When finally left to himself, Raymond, com- 
pletely exhausted, fell into one of the straight- 
backed chairs and a slough of despond at the same 
time. Down dropped the tired shoulders, the 
tight coat unbuttoned of its own accord, and he 
was really beginning to enjoy his misery when, 
with a sudden swift movement, the door burst 
open and in stepped the corporal again. 

Raymond, fumbling at the button of his coat, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


47 


was on his feet in no time, but not quickly enough 
to suit the young martinet. 

“ Don’t be so slow! ” he stormed. “ Here! 
Do it like this.” And in a flash the gray-coated 
figure was in the chair and out of it, standing 
attention with the easy grace of a year’s practice. 

Clumsily enough, in all conscience, poor Ray- 
mond tried to imitate his instructor, who finally 
left the room muttering scornfully at the other’s 
“ grossness.” 

Again Raymond fell back into his chair and 
gave himself up to the luxury of melancholy. He 
had not dreamed West Point was going to be like 
this, and he hated the place as he had never hated 
anything in all his life. He knew now what the 
politicians meant when they referred to the 
Academy as a hot-bed of aristocracy, for there was 
small danger that the son of the Secretary of 
State, or any other influential fellow, would be 
treated as he had been. Yet he had the best blood 
of the South in his veins, though only Faulkner 
knew it. 

Thinking matters over in his bare and cheerless 
room, Raymond swiftly arrived at the conclusion 
that he was a much abused person, and on a wave 
of loneliness and self-pity he was fast being swept 


48 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


into an ocean of homesickness, when a loud noise 
in the hall and a sound of hurrying feet made him 
spring to attention again, buttoning up his coat 
with feverish haste. 

Nearer and nearer came the footsteps, and 
with beating heart and burning cheeks Raymond 
realized that there were two men this time in- 
stead of one. The unfairness of it all gripped at his 
throat. He felt he had suffered enough humiliation 
for one day. He thought they might have left him 
alone for at least half an hour. 

The footsteps hesitated farther down the hall, 
and then came on again, this time stopping at his 
very door. 

Raymond gritted his teeth hard and braced 
manfully, his little fingers on the seams of his 
trousers, his eyes straight to the front. 



CHAPTER FOUR 


In a moment the door had burst open, to be 
closed again with a resounding bang, and another 
individual, buttoned up to the neck in a coat not 
intended to button, and with a wild look in his 
eyes, confronted Raymond. 

For a full moment these two stared at one an- 
other, speechless. Then Raymond, still standing 
at attention, burst into a gale of laughter in which 
he was joined by his companion, for it was no 
other than little Riggs, also stiffly braced, and 
mechanically saluting. 

“ Oh, Riggs, Riggs,” gasped Raymond, when 
he finally caught his breath, “ if you could only 
see yourself ! Did you think me a third classman ? ” 

“ That I did,” returned Riggs cheerfully, “ or 
you may be sure I wouldn’t have saluted you 
so respectfully. But on the other hand you might 
have been a wooden Indian in front of a tobacco 
store. Where did you accumulate that brace? 
It’s positively awe-inspiring.” 

Raymond unbuttoned his tight coat, and 
49 


50 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


slipped into one of the two chairs, indicating 
with a hospitable wave of the hand that Riggs 
was to occupy the other, after which, with con- 
siderable gusto, he proceeded to relate his 
experiences of the morning. 

Riggs listened with enthusiasm, for Raymond 
had the gift of story telling in no small degree, 
while as a mimic he was inimitable. But laugh 
as the Missourian might at his own misadventures, 
he still smarted under what he considered the 
injustice of it all, and could not conceal from little 
Riggs how much his pride had been hurt. 

“You take yourself too seriously, old man,” 
Riggs had said at the close of Raymond’s story, 
“ and as long as the cadets see that ridicule galls 
you, you’ll be ridiculed.” 

Raymond laughed somewhat unwillingly. 

“ I know I’m over-sensitive,” he acknowledged, 
“ but I can’t help it, Riggs. If Faulkner hadn’t 
said what he did, I believe I’d have let them kill 
me before I’d have given in! ” 

Riggs nodded. 

“ A fine trait when the object happens to be a 
great one, but pig-headed when it’s about a small 
matter such as this.” 

He saw Raymond’s sensitive face quiver, and 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


51 


launched into a witty description of his own 
treatment at the hands of the third classmen. 
Raymond noticed there was not a trace of re- 
sentment in Riggs’ manner, only good humoured 
amusement, and he envied the boy his easy going 
disposition. 

Among other things, the yearlings asked Riggs 
if, in common with the rest of his class, he ex- 
pected to come out one at graduation, and the 
navy boy had scored a point, in his own estima- 
tion, at least, by replying that he couldn’t answer 
for the rest of the class. 

“ Then they asked me my views on hazing,” 
continued Riggs, encouraged by Raymond’s in- 
terest, “ and I told them it seemed to me a form 
of moral vaccination, that we were inoculated 
by a ‘ B. J.’ virus to procure immunity from ‘ B. 
J. ity,’ or at least to mitigate the attack. At 
which a cadet corporal spoke up and said that 
in spite of their precaution in vaccinating me I 
seemed to have acquired a case of varioloid, and 
he thought I ought to be quarantined. 

“ Well, I snickered right out then, for it re- 
minded me of an old darkey at my grandfather’s 
home in the South, who described an epidemic 
of small-pox in his family by saying that though 


52 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


the authorities had canteened and assassinated 
the children, most of them had broken out with 
celluloid. Of course the whole gang jumped on 
me after my snicker, and I was bidden in every 
key to ‘ wipe off that smile,' * stop making a 
laughing hyena of myself,’ ‘ swallow my teeth,’ 
and 4 stand at attention.’ 

“ Then a cadet corporal, I think his name 
is Connelly, ordered that I tell my superior officers 
what had amused me; so I told the story, and 
though I did it in my best style and with such 
a strong southern accent that any one with imagi- 
nation could have smelled the fried chicken and 
com pone cooking, they didn’t so much as flicker 
an eyelash, simply stood there as if waiting for 
the point. Finally one of the first classmen 
borrowed a handkerchief from his neighbour 
and proceeded to weep softly on another friend’s 
shoulder, because he found the story so sad, show- 
ing as it did the terrible state of ignorance among 
the natives of Tennessee.” 

“ I know that man,” interrupted Raymond 
excitedly. “ Wasn’t he sort of pasty and white 
with an oily manner? ” 

“ Your description sounds more like boiled 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


53 


macaroni than a man,” laughed Riggs, “but I 
think it suits the gentleman in question.” 

Just then the door was opened a tiny crack 
and Sampson of Tennessee stuck his head around 
it. 

“ Isn’t this the south area room on the third 
floor of the eighth division? ” he inquired easily. 
“ Them young fellers in uniform told me to bring 
my things up here,” and he flung down a carpet- 
bag near the door and stooped to tie his shoe- 
string which had come loose. 

Riggs and Raymond stared at each other 
incredulously. Finally Raymond spoke: 

“Didn’t they give you any — er — er — ” 

“ Instructions? ” put in Riggs hastily. 

“ Why, no,” answered Sampson, looking up, 
“ they only asked my name, and where I was from 
and then assigned me to this room. I told ’em, 
too, how you’d bin kiddin’ us, Riggs, and they 
jest laughed. They called me Mister all the time, 
and was as polite as you please. One of ’em in 
particular, a rather large, pale gentleman, was 
especially nice, and promised to make it pleasant 
for me in camp.” 

Riggs murmured something that sounded 


54 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


strangely like “ Macaroni,” and then asked 
gently : 

“Were you the last to go in and report, Samp- 
son? Yes? I thought so.” 

Raymond still looking mystified, Riggs ex- 
plained : 

“You see they had no time to instruct Sampson, 
so we must tell him just what they told us, that 
he may make no mistake when a superior officer 
comes into the room.” 

Whereupon little Sampson was “ instructed,” 
Raymond adding to the fun, for Sampson was so 
delightfully guileless that he even believed a 
“ brace ” meant to throw the body as far back- 
ward as possible on the hips instead of as far for- 
ward, while the “ salute ” taught him brought the 
thumb so nearly on a straight line with the nose 
that it was anything but respectful in charac- 
ter. 

At last the long expected step came down the 
hall, and before the door could be thrown open to 
admit a dignified figure in gray, Raymond and 
Riggs were on their feet, as they had been in- 
structed, while little Sampson sought the shelter 
of the prohibited alcove, from where he alter- 
nately bowed with his hand on his heart, or per- 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


55 


formed the salute imposed upon him by his 
graceless classmates. 

The cadet corporal stared in amazement, but 
before he could demand what all the nonsense 
meant, little Sampson, his voice quivering with 
earnestness, began to sputter something about 
“ Hail to the Chief,” at which the yearling, 
choking with laughter, fled incontinently. 

A moment later at the order “ Candidates turn 
out promptly,” the guileless Sampson tore down 
the iron stairs of barracks at his room-mates' 
heels, and got into line with such celerity that he 
all but knocked his neighbour down. Once there 
he proceeded to “ Right, left, right, left,” on his 
own account till a scandalized cadet officer took 
him in charge. 

“ They’re good fellows, those plebes on the 
third flour of the eighth division,” Cadet Corporal 
Graham announced several evenings later to his 
room-mate and a couple of visitors, “ though the 
finest specimen of ‘ plebe corporal ’ in the bunch 
is that army boy, Mr. Stirling, you know. Quick 
and snappy in his speech, well set-up, and splen- 
didly muscled, he takes to it all like a Newfound- 
land puppy to water. * Where did you learn the 
exercises?’ I asked him at drill this morning. 


56 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


‘ Been to a tin soldier school, eh? ’ ‘No, sir/ 
he answered, red as the lining of an artillery cape, 
‘ I was born in the army, sir/ and he said it with 
just enough hesitation to keep it from sounding 
B. J., and yet at the same time I felt from what 
he’d left unsaid that he knew his tactics from 
cover to cover.” 

The gentleman resembling macaroni looked up 
quickly. 

“ Don’t count too much on Mr. Stirling,” he 
advised, “ for if I’m not very much mistaken he 
needs disciplining more than any one else in his 
class. Why, he had the impertinence to call at 
the Commandant’s his first day on the post.” 

“ He did? ” snorted Graham incredulously. 
‘‘That was fresh! But who told you so, Bon- 
naff an? ” 

“ Mitchell and Scott and Stansbury. They 
were calling on Miss Harding, the army girl visit- 
ing there, and as she was new to West Point 
customs and had known Stirling in Montana 
years ago, she was very gracious, treating him 
quite like an old cadet and telling numberless 
stories of his ‘ bright boyhood.’ ” 

Graham was properly disgusted. 

“ Well, if he’s that kind, we’ll have to sweat 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


57 


it out of him in plebe camp and, by Jove, if we 
can’t do it through hard drilling — and he’s too 
tough for that ! — we’ll take it out of him in other 
ways. There’s that young Winthrop, too! He’s 
an awful cad — ” 

“ Oh, no,” interrupted Connelly, who was 
sharing Graham’s room in barracks, “ Winthrop’s 
all right, Bob, and he’s the son of the Secretary 
of State, you know.” 

Graham threw out his hands significantly. 

“ Much good it does a fellow at West Point 
to be his father’s son, though Winthrop isn’t on 
to that fact yet, and won’t be able to draw a cap 
at the commissary to fit him, simply because he’s 
so puffed up over his dad being in the Cabinet. 
And ‘ gross! ’ Why, I wager he’ll handle his gun 
like it was hot, for his joints are so stiff that they 
creak in the setting up exercises.” 

“ But, Graham, he’ll get over that, you know, 
and family does count for something. His mother, 
for example, was a Randolph of Virginia, and his 
father comes from splendid Massachusetts stock. 
You’re of too good blood yourself not to realize 
w T hat that means.” 

Graham snorted. 

“ What difference does it make if a fellow’s 


58 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


lineage reads like the chapters in the Bible enum- 
erating the tribes of Israel, if he isn’t a man? 
And if he is a man, who cares what his family 
has done or left undone? There’s Harry Fitch 
of the first class. Did you know that when he 
came here he didn’t have a change of underwear, 
and actually objected to taking a weekly bath? 
Well, it’s a fact.” 

“ But they call him Dude Fitch,” gasped 
Connelly incredulously,' “ and he’s one of the hop 
managers and seems quite a ladies’ man in every 
way. I’ve really been counting on him when my 
mother and sisters come up later in the summer.” 

Graham surveyed his classmate through nar- 
rowed lids. 

“ Dude Fitch was called so first in derision, 
because he was the opposite of all that goes to 
make up a dude, but you see what he is now.” 

“I’m glad you told me,” Connelly murmured, 
“ I’d no idea he was of such common origin. These 
uniforms of ours level us all to the same grade, 
and — and I’d have been awfully mortified to 
have introduced him to the family. I’m more 
than obliged you warned me against him, Bobby.” 

“ Well, you needn’t be,” flamed Graham hotly, 
“for I had no thought of warning you against 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


59 


Fitch. He’s a splendid fellow, and worth a dozen 
little whipper-snappers like young Winthrop, 
for all his mother was a Randolph, and his father 
Secretary of State.” 

Connelly laughed indulgently. 

“ It’s easy enough to talk that way, Graham, 
with such good stock back of you, but I’ll venture, 
with all your vaunted democracy, you’re proud 
of your ancestors.” 

'‘I’m proud they were honest men and women,” 
put in Graham, “ and that if I have any gentility 
it’s not so lightly veneered that I’m afraid to get 
it scratched by rubbing up against so-called com- 
mon people.” 

Faulkner and the other first classman exchanged 
an amused glance, but before Connelly could 
answer, a good looking youngster burst into the 
room with an excited : 

What do you fellows think of a plebe class 
not yet out of ‘ beast barracks ’ getting up an 
Anti-Hazing Society? ” 

“ A what ? ” echoed the other men incredulously. 

“ Yes, sir, an Anti-Hazing Society, if you 
please! I understand it’s engineered by that 
Schuyler Van Norsdell or Van Norsdell Schuyler, 
whichever way his name goes. You know that 


60 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


‘B.J.,’ uppity, nose-in-the-air chap from the 
1 prep ’ school at Highland Falls? ” 

“ But how did you get on to it, Burnham? ” 
gasped the acting first sergeant, staggered at the 
effrontery of the plebes. 

“ Quite by accident. It seems they’re going 
to meet east of the Library at release from 
quarters on Friday afternoon, and old Thurston 
has promised to get there some way or other to 
take notes, his experience as a reporter and knowl- 
edge of shorthand making him just the fellow to 
pull off the job successfully.” 

“ But the plebes would recognize at once that 
he wasn’t of their class,” objected Connelly. 

“ How could they? ” flared Burnham, “ when 
they’re not acquainted with each other yet, and 
have probably never seen Thurston? In a suit 
of ‘ cits ’ they couldn’t suspect he was a yearling. 
Oh, it will be as easy — as — as — ” 

“ ‘ Math ’ was for you last year, Burnham? ” 
suggested Connelly. 

Burnham grinned good naturedly. 

“ You fellows just wait till Friday and see how 
well my plan of campaign works out. Poor 
little innocents ! I could a tale unfold that would 
freeze their young blood and cause their hair to 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


61 


pompadour as naturally as the peevish porcu- 
pine’s.” 

“ But why didn’t they wait until next week 
when they had found out the result of the ex- 
aminations? ” asked Connelly. 

“ Because Van Norsdell Schuyler, or Schuyler 
Van Norsdell, having been at the ‘ prep ’ school 
a year or more, probably knew there would be 
no other chance after that for a class meeting. 
Oh, I’d give my chevrons to be in Thurston’s 
place on Friday evening,” and Cupid Burnham 
smiled the cherubic smile that his classmates knew 
meant mischief of some kind. 

“ Have you reported it to the officer in charge?” 
asked Faulkner soberly. 

“ Of course he hasn’t, you old official wet 
blanket,” put in the other first classman. “ Let 
the little innocents eat, drink, and be merry to-day, 
for to-morrow they’ll have to pay the bill, and 
there’s nothing I’d like better than to see that 
bumptious army chap taken down a peg or two. 
Mark my words, he’s at the bottom of this and not 
young Van Norsdell at all! ” 

Faulkner looked at his classmate very gravely. 

“ Did you and Mr. Stirling ever meet before? ” 
he asked. 


62 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“Yes, years ago when my father was on the 
active list,” returned the other, flushing a bit. 

“ But you didn’t acknowledge the acquaintance 
in any way when he reported,” persisted Faulkner. 
“ Weren’t you good friends in the past, Ben? ” 

For a moment the first classman hesitated. 

“ Why — er — that is — well, you see, Stir- 
ling’s younger than I, and of course didn’t go with 
the same crowd of boys. He can’t be much over 
nineteen now, and I’m twenty-four.” 

“ But I don’t see why you didn’t shake hands, 
or welcome him in some way to the Academy,” 
persisted Faulkner. “ In fact, you were the only 
one who ‘ jumped ’ him at all, he was so well up 
on military etiquette.” 

Ben Bonnaffan blushed again. 

“ To tell the truth, Faulkner, Jack Stirling 
was a very quarrelsome, combative sort of young- 
ster, always on the lookout for a fight, and — 
and — ” he hesitated for a moment, “Oh, you 
know the kind of chap he must have been by the 
fact of his going to the Commandant’s his first day 
on the post, for as an army boy he should have 
known he wasn’t expected to shine socially while 
yet a plebe, and a plebe in ‘ beast barracks ’ 
at that! ” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


63 


“ Well, if he’s at the bottom of this Anti-Hazing 
business we’ll teach him what it means to buck 
up against constituted authority,” growled Bum- 
ham savagely. 

Graham threw an arm around his classmate’s 
shoulder. 

“ Cupid,” he said softly, “ I remember just a 
year ago that you had very decided views on 
anti-hazing yourself.” 

Burnham made a wry face. 

“Was I ever such an idiot? ” he protested, 
and then with his infectious laugh, “ Well, old 
man, I notice that people with great ideas of 
reform usually mean it for their neighbours, sel- 
dom for themselves. Besides, I learned so much 
of the gentle art of hazing last year that I want to 
put it to good account.” 

“ As for myself,” mused Faulkner soberly, “ I 
believed in hazing even when I was undergoing 
it, and realized that plebe camp would do more 
for me than the Academic Board and Tactical 
Department rolled into one. It really doesn’t 
hurt a man to be told the tmth about himself, 
and hazing, such as they give us at West Point, 
simply impresses upon a fellow the high ideals 
of a soldier and a gentleman.” 


64 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Ben Bonnaffan’s loosely hung mouth curved 
into the semblance of a smile as he started to 
speak, but Faulkner, his eyes on his classmate’s 
face, went on even more earnestly: 

“ Of course hazing should be kept within 
bounds, and should never, never be allowed to 
cover spite work.” 

Cupid Burnham looked up indignantly. 

“ A man who would use authority over plebes 
in that way ought to be drummed out of the 
Corps,” he spluttered, “ but it’s not a thing a lot 
of ‘ B. J.’ candidates should organize about 
anyway, and I think every man who joins the 
Anti-Hazing Society should be punished, not by 
the authorities but by the Corps itself! ” 



CHAPTER FIVE 


Despite Ben Bonnaffan’s assertions to the 
contrary, Jack Stirling took little or no interest 
in the Anti-Hazing Society. In company with 
the rest of the class, he had been invited to join, 
but the contemplation of camp life held no terrors 
for the boy who had been preparing himself 
from childhood for life at West Point; and he 
knew, as did few of the others, that the much 
talked of hazing was not of a kind to hurt a man, 
but consisted, for the most part, of necessary set- 
ting up exercises, and a general moral and mental 
setting down process that served to point out de- 
fects of character undreamed of until then. 

That custom, not regulations, permitted the 
new cadets to wait on the older men Stirling 
understood, and he was also well aware that no 
degrading service would be required of them, the 
traditions of the place being strongly against such 
a thing, while a plebe who attempted to “ boot 
lick ” an upper classman, or do anything outside 
those duties prescribed in the unwritten law, 
66 


66 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


would have faced the contempt of the entire Corps. 

“ There are ten of us ‘ prep ’ school fellows in 
the Society,” its president had explained to Jack 
on one of their after supper walks, “ and if we 
can only get a few others from among the men 
just entering, I think we could hold the yearlings 
off for the summer. Once back in barracks there’s 
no time for hazing, and we’d have the distinction 
of being the first plebe class at West Point never 
molested; or, at least, those of us who join the 
Society would be pointed out for years as the 
liberators of future fourth classmen.” 

Stirling refused to be impressed. 

“If I really thought hazing wrong, which I 
don’t,” he had answered, “I’d rather break it 
up next year when we’d be in a position to do it 
successfully, than make a failure of it now! ” and 
though Van Norsdell talked to him all through 
release from quarters, his earnest, sensitive face 
aglow with enthusiasm, Jack Stirling was un- 
moved. 

Out of all the class, little Riggs and Dalton of 
Texas were the only ones who endorsed Stirling’s 
sentiments, though Raymond of Missouri, with 
his usual caution, refused to be enlisted in the 
ranks of the anti-hazers until he knew more 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


67 


definitely just what was expected of him; while 
Secretary Winthrop’s son, little Sampson of 
Tennessee, and Lampton of New Hampshire 
were so in sympathy with the tenets of the in- 
cendiary document that they could hardly wait 
for the meeting before inscribing their names 
thereto. 

As for Bartholomew Bayard of Kentucky, he 
could talk of nothing else, seeming more attracted, 
however, by the heroism of the undertaking than 
by the possibility of not being hazed in plebe 
camp. For Bayard was a dreamer and an idealist, 
despite his six foot three of awkwardness, his 
gobbling voice just changing, his absurd habit of 
blushing to the roots of his fair hair on the slightest 
provocation, and the great hands and feet to which 
he had not grown up for all his seventeen years. 

“It would be such a glorious tradition to leave 
behind us,” he had said in his uncertain voice 
that ran up the scale more often than down, 
“ and if we succeed in the undertaking it will be 
a monument to our class for all time, and future 
generations of cadets will look back upon us with 
much the same reverence and awe that we now 
regard the captured guns and flags and all those 
sacred relics of our country’s past,” 


68 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


As he talked, Bayard flushed up to the tops of 
his big ears, his hands made awkward gestures, and 
his toes turned in a bit, but for all that a certain 
look in the blue eyes commanded respect, for 
it was the look of a man who would die for a 
cause. 

“ Since he’s not my brother, I suppose I can 
call him a fool without disobeying the Scriptures,” 
little Riggs said to Raymond that night. 

“Yes,” Raymond agreed, “ but he’s the sort 
of fool that leads forlorn charges, sacrifices his 
career for a principle, or lays down his life for a 
friend.” 

Riggs laughed. 

“ He’s a regular Don Quixote, that’s what he 
is, and of course the poor duffer doesn’t recognize 
this anti-hazing business is only a windmill, after 
all.” 

Raymond flushed, and Riggs, remembering 
that his room-mate was still undecided on the 
hazing question, caught up a broom in lieu of 
a guitar and began to sing, quite softly so the 
cadet officers would not hear, an old, old plebe 
song that runs something like this 

“ They call me ‘ beast ’ and 1 vile reptile,* 

But I would have you know 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


69 


I’d rather be a kangaroo 
In a real circus show 
Where, I am sure, the animals 
Are happier far than we, 

For they don’t have a squad drill 
In their menagerie. 


“ The lions, tigers, bears, and wolves 
Can never feel our woes, 

Nor does the elephant depress 
His elephantine toes, 

While even little monkeys 
Are happy, gay, and free, 

And hold their hands just as they please 
In their menagerie.” 

The next evening on release from quarters the 
plebes, in little groups of two and three and four, 
found their way to a meeting place just east of the 
Library. 

“ It was suspiciously easy,” whispered Riggs 
to Jack Stirling, the two having gone as much 
in the hope of putting an end to the nonsense as 
in standing by the class. “ They must be giving 
us rope enough to hang ourselves! ” And then a 
moment later: “ I say, Stirling, who’s that duffer 
over there in the striped sack suit? No, I don’t 
mean Lampton of New Hampshire, but the chap 
he’s talking to. It strikes me I haven’t noticed 


70 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


him before, and he carries himself so well that — 
by Jove, you don’t suppose he could be a yearling? ” 

Here Riggs’ conjectures were interrupted by 
young Winthrop’s well modulated voice. 

“ The meeting will please come to order,” 
he said quietly, and as the subdued chatter 
subsided, “ I move that Mr. Schuyler Van Nors- 
dell act as chairman of the meeting.” 

“ I second the motion,” Bayard piped up in his 
uncertain treble, and at the same moment Stirling 
whispered to Riggs: 

“ Raymond says he doesn’t remember that 
fellow in the striped sack suit, either, but Dalton 
thinks he’s a Mississippi man, and though he’s 
forgotten his name he remembers his face per- 
fectly.” 

Meanwhile young Winthrop had put the ques- 
tion of the chairman’s selection to vote, and as 
every one was apparently in favour of the motion, 
he announced that Mr. Schuyler Van Norsdell 
would take the chair. 

As the first business in order, Mr. Lampton 
of New Hampshire was elected secretary, and at 
the chairman’s suggestion, he proceeded to state 
the object of the meeting, after which the reso- 
lutions, agreed upon beforehand by the original 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


71 


members of the Society, were passed around. But 
despite Mr. Lampton’s vocabularic fireworks on 
the subject, few gave the document the approval 
of their signatures, whereupon Mr. Van Norsdell 
called another member of the original ten to the 
chair, and proceeded to address the assembly, 
his face aflame with enthusiasm, his voice ringing 
out now and then like a yearling corporal’s at 
plebe drill. 

He was even more in earnest than Mr. Lampton 
had been, and pointed out with no little eloquence 
that once hazing was done away with at West 
Point, all discipline and drill would be put into 
the hands of the officers of the institution, so that 
in the future, plebes would not have to submit 
to the petty tyranny of boys little older than 
themselves, who drilled them, marched them to 
and from meals, inspected their rooms, and had 
entire control over them from reveille to taps, 
for like many another plebe class few among 
them realized that beyond the Alps of cadet 
discipline lay the Italy of official supervision. 

As Van Norsdell closed his peroration with a 
sententious reference to liberty, fraternity, and 
equality, there was great applause, though some- 
what subdued, for even as it was they had been 


72 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


unmolested longer than at any time since their 
entrance to the Academy, a sinister happening 
to men who knew the customs of the place as well 
as did Riggs and Stirling! 

With few exceptions, the class had been stirred 
to its depths, not so much by what Van Norsdell 
said as the way he said it, his handsome head 
thrown back, his nostrils quivering, his eyes 
sparkling with the enthusiasm of his subject. 
But little Riggs was wise in his generation, and 
followed Van Norsdell’ s impassioned appeal by 
a witty speech which left the candidates with the 
impression that plebe camp was a great character 
builder, after all, and that while hazing might be 
somewhat of a travesty on government, still it 
illustrated the right and power of a superior to 
command and, in the last analysis, was but subor- 
dination reduced to its lowest terms. 

The president of the Anti-Hazing Society 
frowned heavily when Riggs began to speak, and 
finally, with an appearance of partisanship not 
quite seemly in a chairman, he interrupted the 
diverting whimsicality by a rather sullen reference 
to the fact that both Riggs and Stirling could 
afford to make light of hazing, as they were 
shielded by their respective fathers’ positions in 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


73 


the army and navy, not to mention the fact that 
Stirling was a personal friend of the Commandant. 

This made Jack laugh, and forgetting his em- 
barrassment, once the chairman had let down 
the parliamentary bars, he started in with a good 
natured : 

“ That’s just where you’re all off, Schuyler, 
for if there’s any distinction made at West Point 
it’s to come down hardest on the sons of army 
officers or men prominent in political life; for 
the fellow with a wealthy or influential father 
must be made to feel that in the democracy of 
the most democratic school or college in the world, 
he stands no better chance than the son of a day 
labourer, while the army boy is supposed to know 
something of the drills before entering and is 
hazed for being ‘ gross ’ if he doesn’t. 

“ As for my acquaintance with the Comman- 
dant, it’s not in the least to my advantage. In 
fact, it took all the grit I had to go up to his house 
my first day on the post, for I knew it would look 
‘ B. J.’ to any cadet who saw me. But just be- 
cause I was afraid to do it, I went, and as luck 
would have it, met a lot of yearlings making their 
first call on a girl who is visiting there.” 

Jack stopped short, for he had not meant 


74 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


to tell this story on himself, having little more 
humour in his make-up than Van Norsdell, but 
because he felt it might help his classmates to a 
better realization of the hazing question, he went 
on bravely: 

“ The girl and I were children together years 
ago in the West, and as she was new to the Point, 
she hadn’t an idea what a hole she was getting 
me into by introducing those young imps, and 
telling them my entire history, even to the fact 
that I was once chased by Apaches in Arizona. 

“ Why, she actually asked them to look after 
me,” Jack gulped as he said it, “ so you see there’s 
no doubt but that I’ll come in for my share of 
hazing before the summer’s over. So far I’ve 
escaped, because I happened to know the setting 
up drills and regulations fairly well, but once in 
camp I’ll run the gauntlet with the rest of the 
class! ” 

Everybody laughed, and Jack, in spite of a 
mounting embarrassment, went on: 

“ I tell you fellows this, that you may know I 
expect my share of hazing this summer, but in 
spite of it I can’t see my way clear to sign the anti- 
hazing resolutions.” 

Stirling wanted to say more. He felt his class- 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


75 


mates ought to be made to understand that it 
was most unmilitary to defy cadet authority, 
sanctioned as it was by the Tactical Department, 
but instead he urged that the Society be broken 
up as soon as possible for prudential reasons. 

“ It won’t help us a bit with the older cadets,” 
he pleaded boyishly, “ and in fact if they once 
get hold of it, as is sure to happen, it will do us 
real harm.” 

Out of all the class Raymond, Dalton, and 
Burges of Maine were the first to agree with Stir- 
ling and Riggs, but finally only nineteen, in addi- 
tion to the original ten, signed the paper made 
out by Schuyler Van Norsdell, those not signing, 
although greatly in the majority, feeling somewhat 
under a cloud in thus being disloyal to the class 
at the very outset, especially as “ the first pleasure 
of the meeting ” was the withdrawal of every one 
not in sympathy with anti-hazing. 

“ Did anybody notice whether the man in the 
striped sack suit joined the anti-hazers? ” asked 
Riggs, as he and three or four others walked 
slowly back to barracks. 

“ Yes, he signed the paper,” returned Ray- 
mond thoughtfully. “ It was a funny, cramped 
signature that I couldn’t quite make out, but the 


76 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


first name began with a Y and the second with a 
C.” 

“ Yearling Corporal,” howled Riggs, “ Yearling 
Corporal, that’s what it was ; ” but just then “ Call 
to quarters ” sounded, and the plebes arrived in 
the area of barracks on a run, the twenty-eight 
members of the Anti-Hazing Society all but get- 
ting a “ late,” while the twenty-ninth, in a striped 
sack suit, slunk back to camp and, waiting till 
the sentinel on Number Six had his back turned, 
crept across his post and into a tent, where a mo- 
ment later he was busily engaged transcribing into 
longhand some hurriedly scrawled shorthand notes. 

Not long before “ Tattoo,” the call of “ Candi- 
dates turn out promptly ” rang through barracks, 
and in a moment the iron stairs resounded to 
hurrying feet, but Stirling noticed, as he fell into 
ranks, that the lines were thinner by some twenty 
odd men, and with eyes straight to the front, his 
face expressionless, and his little fingers on the 
seams of his trousers, he trembled for the fate of 
the Anti-Hazers. 

Why, oh, why, had his classmates made their 
first protest against cadet discipline, a direct 
violation of a military order? Why had they 
dared the older cadets so early in the game? And, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


77 


more incredible still, why were the third classmen 
making no comment on their absence as noted 
in the roll call? 

Jack wished he had been more forceful in his 
appeal to the Anti-Hazers that evening. He felt 
he was partly to blame for the whole affair. As 
an army boy he should not have been afraid to 
have characterized the proceeding as mutinous, 
rebellious, and seditious. He should have pointed 
out that obedience was the Alpha and Omega 
of a soldier’s existence. He should have told them 
that in war times their conduct would have been 
looked upon as traitorous, that it was nothing 
less than insurrection, which, according to the 
fifty -eighth Article of War, is classed with 
burglary, arson, manslaughter, and murder. 

West Point was not a military school to Jack 
Stirling. It was the beginning of his life as an 
officer in the army, and at the very least, Schuyler 
Van Norsdell’s Anti-Hazing Society was to the 
prejudice of good order and military discipline, 
and that men who expected to wear the uniform 
of their country in four years, and who immedi- 
ately after their January examinations would take 
the oath of office, could have stooped to such a 
thing was unheard of, monstrous. 


78 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


He suffered in those few minutes of waiting as 
only a conscientious fellow without a particle of 
humour can suffer, and he reproached himself 
bitterly for the whole affair. As long as he lived 
he would remember the stern look on the acting 
first sergeant’s face as he checked off the names of 
those missing from the rolls, and he expected every 
moment to have him order out of ranks any one 
who had knowledge of the intended mutiny and 
had not given information thereof to his com- 
manding officer. 

Instead of which, the plebes were solemnly 
marched into barracks, an unprecedented occur- 
rence as they always broke ranks in the area. 
Then, two by two, they climbed the stairs to the 
third floor of the eighth division, where they 
were halted at Schuyler Van Norsdell’s very door. 

Jack remembered now that there had been 
some talk of a final meeting that night in Schuy- 
ler’s room, and he shuddered at the probable fate 
of the Anti-Hazers; for such a direct violation of 
orders would of course necessitate their dismissal 
from the Military Academy, quite apart from their 
insubordinate conduct in having formed a society 
inimical to constituted authority. 

He knew how awed his classmates were, and 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


79 


noticed that little Riggs, just ahead of him, was 
trembling violently, which showed that Riggs, 
as a navy boy, realized the enormity of the offence 
as he himself did. 

There was a moment of intense suspense, and 
then the acting first sergeant dramatically threw 
the door wide open. 

The room was empty! 



CHAPTER SIX 


No, not entirely empty, for from the top of the 
clothes-press came a loud cock-a-doadle-do! 

Jack saw little Riggs’ shoulders tremble more 
violently than ever, and to his amazement the 
cadet lieutenant’s voice rang out with a stem : 

“ Stop that laughing in ranks, gentlemen. 
Mr. Riggs, sir, wipe off that smile. Such levity at 
a military formation is unseemly.” Then in the 
same crisp tone: 

“ Gentlemen, you may break ranks. As many 
as possible will please enter the room. The others 
are requested to stand near the door. And now 
allow me to introduce our speaker of the evening, 
Mr. Schuyler Van Norsdell of New York.” 

There was great shuffling of feet, much crowd- 
ing and pushing, some half hysterical snickers, 
quickly suppressed by the cadets in charge, and 
a somewhat ominous silence broken by the cadet 
lieutenant, preternaturally grave and over- 
whelmingly polite, the “ Macaroni ” of Raymond 
and Riggs, the “ Big Ben ” of Jack’s boyhood. 

80 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


81 


“ Gentlemen of the fourth class,” he began 
in his offensive way, “ it is my great pleasure and 
privilege to preside over this meeting and intro- 
duce our distinguished guest of the evening, Mr. 
Van Norsdell Schuyler — I should say, Mr. 
Schuyler Van Norsdell — of New York. As all 
of you know, Mr. Van Norsdell is the distinguished 
gentleman whose lecture at the Library this after- 
noon was largely patronized by members of the 
fourth class. 

“ At the earnest solicitation of some of us unable 
to attend that most interesting meeting, Mr. 
Van Norsdell has kindly consented to read aloud 
the resolutions adopted by his distinguished So- 
ciety, with appropriate comments after each 
resolution. Were it not for lack of time, Mr. 
Van Norsdell would reiterate his views on hazing 
at West Point, and would also tell us how and 
why the regulations and customs of the Military 
Academy should be changed, but as our time 
is somewhat limited we have suggested that he 
confine himself to the resolutions adopted, and 
his comments thereon; though in view of the 
many conflicting and false ideas entertained by 
upper classmen on the discipline of new cadets, 
Mr. Van Norsdell will give his lecture on hazing 


82 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


very frequently once we are established in camp ! ” 
and with a sweeping bow towards the clothes- 
press, “ It is my great privilege to yield the floor 
to Mr. Schuyler Van Norsdell of New York.” 

There was a moment of intense silence, and then 
from the top of the clothes-press where the dis- 
tinguished guest of the evening had assumed, 
as nearly as space would allow, the first position of 
a soldier, came a husky, strained voice : 

“ Cock-a-doodle-do! 99 

“ Louder, louder! ” urged the cadet lieutenant 
kindly. “ We all want to hear.” 

Once again came the mournful sound, and this 
time even those out in the corridor and on the 
stairs heard it distinctly. Then followed the 
reading of the incendiary document, with an 
additional “ sir ” after every punctuation, the 
comments on each resolution being the barking 
of a dog, the lowing of a cow, the cackle of a hen, 
the purring of a cat, the neighing of a horse, and 
other barn-yard noises; while from an adjoining 
room a chorus of twenty odd voices sang the 
sprightly air of “ Yankee Doodle ” as a running 
accompaniment to the melodious Whereas and 
Be it Resolved of the erstwhile Anti-Hazing 
Society. At the close of this dignified performance 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


83 


the big, red-faced candidate flapped his arms 
for a moment, and with a half smothered “ tweet- 
tweet-tweet ” fluttered down from the top of the 
wardrobe right into the arms of his astonished 
classmates; after which the plebes dispersed to 
their respective rooms where the “ Anti-antis,” 
as they now called themselves, gave way to un- 
restrained mirth. 

On the following Monday when the too familiar 
call “ Candidates turn out promptly ” rang 
through Cadet Barracks, it is a wonder those 
echoing footsteps on the iron stairs were not 
drowned in the excited throbbing of a hundred 
and fifty hearts, for at last the result of the pre- 
liminary examination was to be published and 
those days of waiting, so full of anxiety for every 
one, were at an end. 

When the roll had been called and the Adjutant 
walked in front of the long, ragged line of can- 
didates, Jack Stirling trembled so that Cadet 
Corporal Graham noticed it. 

“ Poor chap,” thought Graham to himself, 
“ he evidently knows he’s made a clean ‘ fess * 
at the examinations. What a shame that a brace 
like that doesn’t carry brains with it.” 

Not far from Jack stood Raymond of Missouri, 


84 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


white with fear, not so much because he thought 
he might have failed as that it was his nature to 
worry and dread the worst, even when everything 
was propitious; while farther up the line, little 
Lampton of New Hampshire, with his customary 
optimism, felt that he had passed a brilliant ex- 
amination, when, in truth, he had done less well 
than many another fellow now trembling in his 
boots. 

Sick with an anxiety that grew with every 
moment of suspense, Jack Stirling gritted his 
teeth together and waited. As in a dream, he 
heard the Adjutant directing those whose names 
should be read to fall out of ranks and proceed 
to their quarters. Then came the orders about 
turning in . articles drawn from the cadet commis- 
sary and settling their accounts with the Treasurer, 
after which they were to go to their homes and 
await the action of the President on their respect- 
ive cases. 

At last came the list of names beginning with 
Abbott of Tennessee and ending with Zane of 
Texas. Jack strained his ears to hear, but in his 
excitement could scarcely distinguish one name 
from another. 

On every side men were falling out of ranks, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


85 


the “ thin, red line of heroes’ ’ growing noticeably 
less as the Adjutant rattled off the list. There 
went the honour graduate of a military school on 
the Hudson, a victim of the elementary character 
of the examinations, for in those days a boy 
of twelve or fourteen could have done better in 
many of the studies than did young men further 
advanced. Here an uncouth country boy sham- 
bled away, his shoulders still braced as he had been 
taught. Now it was a man who had been studying 
for years to prepare himself; now a fellow who 
had never heard of the Academy till the announce- 
ment of the competitive examination a month 
previous. Some bore the defeat gallantly, some 
brazenly, while an occasional man stumbled 
blindly out of ranks, his face white and drawn 
with anguish. However they took their failure 
to “ pass,” it was harrowing to see those defeated 
candidates answer to their names, one by one. 

Jack Stirling felt he could bear it no longer, and 
trembled violently as the Adjutant finished the 
R’s and started in on S. Suddenly he heard 
his own name called, and the sound brought 
him out of his stupor. Oh, it couldn’t be that 
after all those years of preparation and longing 
he was to fail at the very outset ! What would his 


86 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


father say? His mother? Donnelly? All those 
good friends who had wished him God speed 
so short a time before? 

With a stifled sob, he threw back his head, 
clenched his hands tightly, and started to step 
forward with the customary “ Here! ” when a 
slight pressure on his left arm stopped him. Also 
he was conscious the place on his other side was 
empty, and that the Adjutant continued to read 
from the list in his hand. What did it mean? 
What could it mean? But even as he asked him- 
self these questions, the army boy realized, with 
a wave of suffocating joy, that while the surname 
had been the same as his own the initials were 
different. 

It was Edward Stirling of Massachusetts that 
had been “ found,” not Jack Stirling, “ At large; ” 
and now the Adjutant was on another letter. 
He was safe — safe. 

The reaction was so great that Stirling wanted 
to shout aloud, but even in his exhilaration he 
felt for the boy who had been found deficient, the 
boy whose surname was his own, and a few mo- 
ments later, when the successful candidates swept 
back into barracks, Jack looked the other fellow 
up, but Edward Stirling of Massachusetts needed 
no sympathy. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


87 


“ I wouldn’t stay here for a thousand dollars 
a minute,” he volunteered jauntily, “ and if any 
one ever mentions West Point again in my pres- 
ence, he’ll get this in his solar plexus, see!” and 
a brawny fist doubled itself up menacingly. 

Jack laughed. 

“ Well, old fellow, I’m glad you don’t mind 
leaving,” he said. “ It would have gone so hard 
with me that if I’d failed,” he choked a little on 
the word, “I’d have gone to the nearest recruiting 
station and enlisted, that’s all.” 

“ Enlisted! ” echoed the older boy incredulously. 
“ And what would any one enlist for in times of 
peace? ” 

“ Why, to get a commission through the ranks,” 
explained Jack in surprise at the other’s ignorance. 

The Massachusetts boy stared at him incred- 
ulously. 

“ So you like the army? ” he asked at length. 

“ Like it ? ” cried Jack. “ Why, I love it, man ! ” 
And then, carried away by his own enthusiasm, 
“ I can’t imagine a better profession, or a more 
unselfish one! ” Here he stopped suddenly, 
smitten with the self-consciousness that afflicts 
the very young, but Stirling of Massachusetts was 
interested. 


88 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ They say,” he began haltingly, “ that a 
standing army is a terrible drain on a country, 
and a useless one, too, because in time of war all 
men physically able would cheerfully proffer 
their services to defend the flag.” 

“ But it takes something more than cheerfulness 
to conquer an enemy,” flashed Jack. “ It takes 
skill and — and training. You can’t raise a good 
army and navy in a few weeks; and, as a rule, 
an enemy doesn’t give you time to prepare for his 
coming. Of course in the end I think our country 
would win out against any nation in the world, 
but we oughtn’t to trust it in the hands of un- 
trained men. It’s — it’s too sacred for that.” 

From babyhood up Jack Stirling had been made 
to feel that the country was his mother; that her 
interest was his interest ; her life his life ; and that 
everything must be subservient to maintaining 
the dignity and prestige of her honour, while to 
serve her in any capacity was a great privilege. 
He said something of the kind in his own boyish 
way to Stirling from Massachusetts, his speech 
jerky, curt, and even slangy in proportion to the 
intensity of his feelings ; but the other understood, 
for when he spoke again there was a subtle change 
in his voice. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


89 


“ You’ve the stuff in you soldiers are made of, 
Stirling,” he said half shyly, “ and, by Jove, I 
wish you had talked to me this way before 
examinations. You see, the Governor got me 
the appointment because he thought I needed the 
four years’ discipline here, and I — well, I was 
hard-headed and I wanted to go to Harvard 
instead, and so — ” he raised himself till his 
mouth was on a level with Jack’s ear, and whis- 
pered the rest. 

Jack jumped back incredulously. 

“You tried to ‘ fess ’ ! ” he gasped. “You did 
it purposely? ” 

The older boy nodded. 

“ I hadn’t an idea the appointment meant 
so much,” he excused himself, “ and I wanted to 
go to Harvard. The red tape and military dis- 
cipline here galled me just as it does Van Norsdell. 
As for the army, I shouldn’t have gone into it 
anyway, even if I’d graduated. That is, I felt 
so about it before I talked with you.” 

Jack stared incredulously, but before he could 
gather himself together Stirling of Massachusetts 
went on : 

“ Now I not only want to stay, I want to gradu- 
ate and go into the service. And, Jack, I’ll do it, 


90 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


too. I’ll get another appointment. I’ll come 
back next year. See if I don’t! ” 

The boys’ hands clung together in a long grasp 
of mutual understanding and, “ I wish we were 
going to be classmates,” cried both Stirlings 
almost in the same breath. 

For days those remaining were haunted by the 
woebegone faces of the defeated candidates, as 
they loaded their luggage on a wagon in the area. 
But at the same time many of the successful ones 
half envied the unfortunates their freedom, for 
the entrance to the Military Academy was not 
a triumphant one, an unheard of and unthought 
of amount of red tape being measured out to the 
plebes, in addition to that which already bound 
them hand and foot. 

In the Mess Hall that night, their table manners 
were revised and corrected for the first time and 
they were compelled to keep their shoulders back, 
sit upright, and not raise their eyes from their 
plates except for a moment when absolutely 
necessary. 

In fact the discipline previous to this had been 
mere child’s play, and as the drill was increased 
to two hours at a stretch, an occasional man, 
soft from lack of exercise, fainted in ranks. The 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


91 


very act of standing perfectly erect with palms 
facing out, hands at the sides, heels together, and 
shoulders back, was in itself a severe strain, while 
to walk with the toes touching the ground first 
at every step made some of the men look as if 
they could scarcely walk at all. In no circum- 
stances could the hand be raised even to wipe 
away the streaming perspiration, which was 
a great hardship, considering the state of the 
weather. 

As visiting was strictly prohibited among the 
plebes after “ Call to quarters,” some of those left 
without room-mates felt the depressing influence 
of being alone, and had much difficulty that 
first night writing cheerful letters to relatives 
or friends, announcing their successful entrance 
to the Military Academy. But Jack Stirling, 
for all that he had lost a comrade in the other 
Stirling and in his temporary room-mate, Dick 
Dalton, wrote a letter overflowing with joy, 
not only on having passed the examinations, but 
because of some exceptionally good news from 
home. 

This was contained in an epistle received that 
evening in the familiar scrawl of Sergeant Don- 
nelly. It read: 


92 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“My deer Mr. Jack, Respected Sir: — You 
know I aint much on letter ritein, but yr Pa he 
says I can be the fust to tell you the grate news. 

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Jack, he says they wont tellygraff 
you or nothin, but that I may let you know in my 
own way youve got a kid brother. He arrived 
on the post not 6 hours ago, & reported to the 
K. O. at once, goin strate up to yr quarters, sir, 
& there I held him in these very arms thats ritin 
to you just 15 minits past, the most ridikerlous 
little cuss you ever seen, about as long as my 
hand streched out good, & that red youde think 
he was blushin with shame cause theyve gone 
& named him after poor old Donnelly. 

“Yes Sir, Mr. Jack, theyve gone & called the kid 
after me — Sammy, they calls him, Sammy Don- 
nelly, after a old, good for nothin trooper grown 
gray in the service, who, if you hadent up and 
taught him better, wud still be sinein his name with 
a X, & walkin the road that the Chaplain says 
leads to destruction. 

‘ ‘ Dinah, whose nurse to him just as she was to you, 
Dinah, she says its scandalus havein a gentlemans 
son called after a Non-Com. She says the Major 
only done it cause he allays felt I saved yr life 
that day the Apaches chased you in Arizona — 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


93 


though the Lord knows it was you done all the 
savein, me bein so keerless as to git in line with 
a Injuns gun. But any way Dinah, she says its 
like to turn my silly old hed havein the Majors 
Kid and your Brother named after me. She dont 
think Ime none to modist as it is I reckin — and 
she says like as not theyde have caled the Kid 
that any way, Sammy bein such a pritty name. 

“ So I up & says — since its such a pritty name 
howd you like to be caled Missus Sammy — I 
says — & bless my brass buttons, if she dident 
answer yes! Now Mr. Jack, respected sir, you aint 
a bit more flabbergasted than I was myself. No 
sir, you aint, cause Ive bin sparkin Dinah going 
on 1 8 years now & shes held me off like I had 
the Small Pox, & then all of a suddint to turn 
round that way & say shele have me. 

“Well, better late than never — says I to Her — 
You speak for yrself — says Dinah to me in that 
snappy way Ive allways liked — Praps Ime not 
so late as you think I be — says she with her hed 
in the air — Appeerences is deceetful — says she. 
That they are, Dinah — says I — if you claim to 
be under 50 — says I, & with that I dodged, 
for Dinah come at me with the rollin pin. 

“But Land Sakes, Mr. Jack, Ide rather have 


94 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Dinah after me with a rollin pin than any other 
woman with a hunk of pie. Seems as if a man 
likes the skowls of the woman he loves better 
than the smiles of the one he dont love. 

“ The Baby ways 9 lbs. 

“ Yr ob. Servent, Samuel Donnelly, Seenyur. 

“ P. P. C. Sergeant O’Briens dog had a fite with 
the quartermasters Bull Terrier the other day & 
licked the stuffin outer him. 

“ Ime goin to put him on my horse tomorrer if 
I can sneek him out from undir Dinahs nose — 
I mean the Kid not the Bull Terrier — 

14 The whole troops just crazy cause were goin 
to join the regment at Leavenworth in the fall. 

“Once agin, Mr. Jack, with all perliteness, 
beleeve me Yr ob. Servent, 

“Samuel Donnelly, Seenyur .” 



CHAPTER SEVEN 


The first week in July found the plebes still 
in barracks, to their own great delight and the 
impatience of the yearlings over at Camp Jonathan 
Williams. 

At daybreak they were awakened by the ear 
splitting thunder of the reveille gun and the 
racket of the drums and fifes summoning them 
to roll call, and full soon they learned the necessity 
of getting into line at that last imperative tap 
of the drum, and answering promptly to their 
names as the acting first sergeant rattled them 
off. A moment later and they were in their 
rooms again, with a half hour in which to com- 
plete their dressing, pile their bedding, and put 
in order their own particular alcove, the room 
orderly for the week attending to the general 
“ policing ” of quarters, and being held re- 
sponsible by the subdivision inspector for any- 
thing not in its proper place, or an infinitesimal 
speck of dust that might slightly mar the spotless 
96 


96 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


white of a glove drawn over the surface of mantel- 
piece or table. 

At five forty-five, to the second, “ Mess Call ” 
sounded, and once again the plebes fell into ranks 
and answered to roll call, after which they were 
marched to breakfast. Then came the morning 
drill, which consisted of all kinds of arm and leg 
exercises, ending up with three quarters of a mile 
“ double timing,” or in unmilitary English, 
running, the position of the soldier being stiffly 
maintained the while. Owing to the intense heat 
of the July mornings these drills almost exhausted 
the newcomers, and left not a dry thread upon 
them. In the afternoon they were trained in the 
manual of arms. 

Of the six boys “ herded ” together on the 
third floor of the eighth division, Jack Stirling 
was the only one who took life philosophically, 
which came partly from the fact that he had in 
some degree known what to expect before enter- 
ing the Academy, and partly that from childhood 
up he had been accustomed to these very drills 
and exercises, so that they did not leave him worn 
out and exhausted as was the case with many of 
his classmates, some of whom broke down com- 
pletely under the strain and had to go the hospital. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


97 


Young Winthrop was especially “ soft,” and 
twice fainted in ranks, while Mizzoo, as Raymond 
was already called by the class, hobbled around 
ungracefully on swollen, blistered feet, not so 
much sick in body as sick at heart, disenchanted 
and worn out, but showing an indomitable grit 
that drew Stirling to him wonderfully. Riggs 
and Bayard also stood the strain of that first 
fortnight very well, as did Schuyler Van Norsdell 
and little Lampton ; though the one was so careless, 
and the other so sure of his own infallibility that 
they were often in the punishment squad, stand- 
ing in the constrained position of attention, or 
compelled to execute double step for fifteen min- 
utes at a time, all for what would have seemed 
to a civilian trivial things, such as stumbling in 
ranks, letting their guns slip in their hands, a 
little dust on their shoes or collar or accoutre- 
ments, a second or two late at some formation, 
all the small military sins of omission, as well as 
the greater sins of commission. 

As might have been expected from his early 
training, the one army boy of the class had no 
trouble in this regard, and could have drilled the 
the other plebes as well as any yearling. No need 
to instruct Jack Stirling in the first position of a 


98 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


soldier, and as for the setting up exercises, he 
could have done them in his sleep. 

To every one else in the class it was exhausting 
work, that brought them back from a drill almost 
despairing of being able to stand the hard life 
another hour; though as a rule, after resting 
and comparing notes, they would feel better about 
it all, some of them even tearing up letters of 
resignation written in the privacy of their rooms. 

To one who has never witnessed a plebe class 
of the old days being “ licked into shape,” no word 
picture could adequately describe the severity 
of West Point discipline or the restrictions thrown 
around a new cadet. The smallest imaginable 
offence would put him in confinement, that is, 
deprive him of the privilege of leaving his own 
room in barracks or tent in camp, except for 
official purposes, the length of confinement 
varying with the gravity of the offence. 

Everywhere they went the sound of the drum 
and fife accompanied them, while on Sunday 
morning a bugle took the place of the solemn 
tolling of a bell to call them to church. Even there 
they were not allowed to forget their military 
surroundings, for flags were draped above the 
pulpit, these flags being surmounted by a gigantic 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


99 


eagle, above which was a mural decoration en- 
titled “War and Peace.’ * On one side of the 
chapel were memorial tablets to the officers who 
fell in the Mexican War, and on the other side were 
tablets to all the generals under Washington in 
the Revolutionary War, while enshrined like 
patron saints of West Point were the British, 
Hessian, and Mexican flags, taken in battle. The 
very prayer books, hymnals, and Bibles were 
marked with a U. S., the service itself being 
especially directed to the officers and cadets; 
for, after all, real Christianity is closely allied to 
patriotism, and love of country and love of God 
are the most ennobling of sentiments. 

Once established in camp and assigned to their 
respective companies according to height, the 
tall men on the flank, and the short ones in the 
centre, the plebes began to feel more like real 
soldiers, especially as they had been put into uni- 
form. Social distinctions were also less clearly 
marked, now that they dressed alike, and Bar- 
tholomew Bayard was quite as prepossessing in 
his gray pantaloons, gray jacket, and military cap 
as the hitherto smartly clad Winthrop. 

In addition to the hated squad drill, which still 
continued, the plebes learned to handle the big 


100 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


twelve pounders south of camp almost like vet- 
erans, and could jump to their places and make 
things hum in the mock firing, real target practice 
being reserved for later in the course. 

In those old days the morning drills were so 
severe that they kept hands and feet, unused to 
them, blistered for weeks at a time. But gradu- 
ally soft flesh calloused over, the aching back 
straightened out naturally into the brace required 
of it, muscles hardened and responded to the de- 
mands put upon them, until at last the plebe be- 
gan to eat more in the Mess Hall and sleep better 
at night. Then a faint colour showed under 
the fine bronze of his skin, his chest broadened 
out, and he increased in weight, while his eyes lost 
the dazed, hurt look that had haunted them since 
his first introduction to “ beast barracks.” Fi- 
nally he managed to hold up his head again with 
all the old-time pride, and the added consciousness 
that he was fast developing into a well set-up young 
soldier, not a mere fresnman in a college, but a 
professional man on a salary, for what else does 
it mean to have all one’s expenses paid at the 
Academy, with the certainty of being made a 
second lieutenant in the army on graduation ? 

Every morning saw the plebes out on the cavalry 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 101 


plain, where, after stacking their guns, they were 
put through an hour’s severe drill, when they 
would take arms and double time for a short 
distance with the guns over their shoulders. Re- 
turning to their tents, they had only five minutes 
before inspection, at which they had to appear 
in clean linen, with shoes neatly blacked. Guard- 
mounting, the most impressive military forma- 
tion of the day, followed close on the heels of 
inspection, and then came artillery drill with 
the field guns south of camp. 

During the plebes’ artillery drill, the yearlings 
and first classmen tore up and down the cavalry 
plain at light battery drill, those members of the 
first class, not acting as chiefs of platoons or 
sections, firing the great sea-coast guns on the 
water front, the roar of heavy artillery that 
echoed and re-echoed among the hills combining 
well with the ringing bugle calls, the flash of 
sabres, and the galloping of horses on the plain. 
All of which made the plebes, who were simply 
going through the evolutions of loading, firing, 
mounting, and dismounting their pieces, feel that 
they were an integral part of the noisy whole. 

Before long the facility with which the plebes 
went through their artillery drill would have 


t 


102 IN WEST POINT GRAY 

impressed a stranger with the idea that they were 
veterans, while by the middle of August the effect 
of constant training began to show in the ease 
with which men, who a few weeks before were 
hopelessly awkward, handled a rifle and went 
through the manual of arms. 

Also another change had taken place in their 
condition, for to the casual observer they were 
no longer new cadets, wearing a shell jacket and 
gray trousers. Instead, they wore the full uniform, 
consisting of white trousers and a dress-coat, and 
attended all drills and parades. This is called 
“ going into the battalion/’ and not a plebe but 
supposed it was regarded with great dissatis- 
faction by the older men, who, they were sure, 
resented being put upon equality with plebes 
for any purpose. 

On going into dress uniform, they were straight- 
way accorded that deference and respect from 
the casual visitor on the post which the bell 
buttons demand, nor were they longer subjected 
to the covert sneers which up to that time had 
been their portion, though during the dancing 
hour tourists still came to the windows and stared 
in, discussing the fourth classmen as if they were 
pieces of machinery incapable of understanding 
what was said. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 103 


Three times a week the dancing lesson was 
alternated by one in swimming, the plebes going 
about a mile and a half up the Hudson, where 
under the direction of one of the tactical officers 
most of them quickly learned to keep afloat, 
though Raymond, who had lived inland all his 
life, and Bartholomew Bayard from the mountains 
of Kentucky, were pretematurally slow in learn- 
ing, their first attempts to swim being really 
tragic. 

To his classmates’ surprise, little Riggs, for all 
his six months at the Naval Academy, could not 
swim a stroke, and floundered around in the 
water like the veriest tyro. But he struggled 
so hard to learn that the instructor had not the 
heart to be cross with him ; though he must have 
been somewhat discouraged when after getting 
Riggs apparently well started, and slipping his 
supporting hand gently away, the boy would 
sink like a stone, to come up in a moment, puffing 
like a grampus, and so shaken by his experience 
that the officer felt obliged to let him crawl into 
the boat and rest. Neither could Riggs learn to 
float, for unless the instructor supported him 
the boy’s head would be quickly swallowed up by 
the water, his violent efforts to get to the surface 


104 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


but hastening his descent to the bottom ; until at 
last, half drowned, he would beg to be allowed 
to cling to the side of the boat until he could 
regain his breath. This lack of progress en- 
couraged a man like Raymond, who was in the 
same section, as nothing else could have done, 
and filled Bayard, in the other detachment, with a 
secret joy that he managed to keep afloat at all, 
an accomplishment he acquired at his first lesson, 
whereupon he had literally rested upon his arms, 
seeming unable to learn even the first principles 
of swimming. 

Fortunately for such men as Raymond, Riggs, 
and Bayard, the young officer in charge of the 
swimming detachments was a good natured fellow, 
who felt the men were doing their best and en- 
couraged them to the utmost, though fully reali- 
zing that Raymond and Riggs, in particular, were 
the most unpromising of pupils. 

At about their fifth lesson, the easy going, 
good natured young fellow took a day's trip to 
New York, being temporarily relieved from duty 
by another tactical officer much dreaded in the 
Corps for his unbending severity of manner. He 
was a rather silent man, who, if he had not been 
the hero of several Indian fights, would have been 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 105 


much disliked by the cadets, though, as it was, they 
adored him. An officer in whom justice was un- 
tempered by mercy, his influence among them was 
most marked, a word of praise from Old Grizzly, 
as he was affectionally called, being equivalent to 
a brevet later in their army life. 

A natural bom swimmer himself, Old Grizzly 
was scandalized at Raymond’s lack of progress, 
and really indignant that Riggs after six months 
at the Naval Academy, in addition to his instruc- 
tion at West Point, should be unable so much as 
to keep afloat. In his heart he felt their instructor 
was to blame, and determined that the plebes 
should profit by their one day with him, his theory 
being that the best way to teach a man to swim 
was to pitch him overboard and let him strike out 
for himself, especially with a boat near at hand 
in case of accidents. 

Rowing out well beyond every one’s depth, 
Old Grizzly watched the men, one by one, jump 
overboard and swim around the boat, Raymond 
and Riggs alone holding back. 

“ You’re afraid, are you? ” snarled Old Grizzly. 

“ No, sir,” answered Raymond, “ but I didn’t 
think you’d want us to jump overboard when 
we hadn’t learned to keep afloat.” 


106 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


For answer Old Grizzly, who was a powerful 
fellow, caught Raymond under the arms and 
tossed him into the river. Riggs protested vigor- 
ously, apparently not so much on his own account 
as on Raymond’s, but the officer threw him over- 
board, too, as deaf to his entreaties as he was 
blind to the white-faced plebes gathering around 
the boat, their eyes big with horror, for they 
knew, as he did not, how helpless both boys were. 

“ Now sink if you can’t swim! ” was the last 
thing poor Raymond heard as the blue waters 
of the Hudson closed over his luckless head. Hav- 
ing learned implicit obedience his first few weeks 
at the Academy, Raymond immediately sank. 

Down, dowm, he went, instinct holding his 
mouth tightly closed, fear making him strike out 
with his arms and legs, and after a moment or two 
he was climbing into the boat, shaken and tired 
and cold, but otherwise none the worse for his 
experience. 

With a sheepish grin, he turned towards his 
classmates who had proved themselves more 
accomplished swimmers, but to his amazement 
they were all unusually grave, and, indeed, paid 
but slight attention to him, their eyes searching 
the river anxiously. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 107 


Raymond stared from them to the white-faced 
instructor. 

What had happened? 

In a moment he understood. Riggs was missing, 
for after coming to the surface twice, the boy had 
disappeared. 

“ It was right over there he came up, sir,” 
volunteered one of the plebes, his eyes staring, 
his lips twitching painfully as he talked. “ Right 
over there by those willows, sir, and he opened 
his mouth as if he were crying ‘ Help,’ but no 
sound came, sir. Then he went down again, and 
when I saw him the second time his eyes were 
closed, and — and he certainly did look queer, 
sir.” 

The lieutenant shivered nervously, and Ray- 
mond’s teeth chattered in his head. 

Poor little Riggs! He was so full of life, so 
merry, so laughter-loving. Plebe camp itself had 
not been able to lower his high spirits or cloud 
the sunshine of his smile. “ B. J. Riggs,” the upper 
classmen called him, not because he was un- 
military or slow to learn the customs of the place, 
but because he was such a wag, and more than once 
by his nimble wit had turned the joke of hazing 
on the upper classmen. In addition he was 


108 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


possessed of a baritone voice that, according to his 
friends, could lure the birds from the trees. Also 
he had the ability to “ tell a grind,” in the par- 
lance of the Point, which meant he was a Joe 
Miller, clown, and harlequin all rolled into a 
sprightly well set-up little plebe, the pride of his 
own class, the good natured despair of his supe- 
riors. 

It didn’t seem possible they were never to see 
him again; or hear his jolly laugh; or share 
in that all pervasive friendliness that made him 
the most popular man in the class. 

Had the instructor not been so frightened him- 
self, the plebes could scarcely have forgiven him 
for having thrown their two comrades into the 
water with that ominous instruction, “ Sink if 
you can’t swim! ” But he was paying dearly for 
his folly now as, white and trembling, he sprang 
into the water and struck out towards the spot 
where the body was last seen. Clutching hold of 
some willows near the bank, Old Grizzly found a 
projecting rock, climbed upon it, and as the 
water there was very deep, he dove again and 
again, only to come to the surface empty handed. 

A train thundered by on its way West. A 
steamer whistled dolorously in passing. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 109 


The lieutenant heard them as in a dream, a 
frightful dream, the memory of Riggs’ ill con- 
cealed fear as he was pushed into the water filling 
him with the keenest remorse, especially as he 
remembered that most of his fright seemed to be 
on Raymond’s account, for even in his mortal 
terror the boy had thought first of his comrade, 
had told the lieutenant that Raymond could not 
swim. 

Oh, how brutal he had been! How criminally 
careless ! How utterly unworthy of his position in 
the Tactical Department! 

At last, confident he could do no more, the in- 
structor swam wearily back to the little boat and 
climbed in. 

Just as he did so, Riggs’ head appeared over 
the gunwale. 

“ Did I stay under water long enough to suit 
you, lieutenant? ” he asked with an exasperating 
air of having accomplished a duty. 

The boys stared, round-eyed, half frightened. 
The instructor gasped audibly, but recovering 
himself quickly, he said in his sternest voice: 

“You stayed under long enough to put you 
in confinement for a month, Mr. Riggs,” and then, 
half grudgingly, “ But may I ask where you 


110 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


learned your feat of swimming under water so 
long? ” 

“ At the Naval Academy,” answered that in- 
corrigible youth, without a trace of shame. 

“ And why, pray, when you have proved that 
you could swim so unusually well under water, 
have you pretended ignorance of swimming on 
the surface? ” 

“ I don’t know, sir,” returned Riggs with en- 
gaging candour, “ but I reckon as much as any- 
thing else to keep Mr. Raymond cheered up, sir, he 
being so slow to learn.” 

Whereupon the young officer, mopping his wet, 
red face with a handkerchief, longed to have Riggs 
court-martialed for insubordinate conduct, but 
decided finally that since the boy had not em- 
barrassed him by getting drowned, he would 
limit his punishment as much as was consistent 
with discipline. 

Meanwhile Riggs managed to give Raymond a 
monstrous wink behind the instructor’s back, and 
whispered : 

“ Bet you he’ll never pitch another fellow 
overboard who can’t swim, eh, Mizzoo? ” 

Needless to say he never did. 

Likewise he held his peace as to Riggs’ mischie- 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 111 


vous deception, but smiled grimly into his sweep- 
ing moustache when a few days later the regular 
instructor of swimming came to ask his method 
in teaching the art ; as from the day Old Grizzly 
had taken the detachment, Riggs, the impossible, 
had learned to swim with the greatest ease, while 
even Raymond could keep afloat and propel him- 
self fairly well by a fancy side stroke. For like 
the girl of the old-fashioned spelling school, who 
stumbled on the easy words, and spelled the hard 
ones right, Raymond always swam with a compli- 
cated overhand stroke, taught him by Riggs, 
a method of buffeting the waves that might 
well have been the despair of a more accomplished 
swimmer. 


CHAPTER EIGHT 


Although the hazing of plebes was strictly 
forbidden by the authorities, and to be caught at 
it meant a court-martial and possible dismissal for 
the guilty ones, many pranks were played on un- 
suspecting new cadets that summer, including 
everything from unauthorized exercises to the 
time-honoured custom of making them “ eat that 
soup ” in the Mess Hall, or “ jumping ” them 
for giving orders to a superior if they happened to 
say “ come in ” when an upper classman scratched 
on their tent flap. 

As Jack Stirling had predicted, he himself 
suffered all the ills that plebes are heir to on first 
going over to camp, the story of his visit to the 
Commandant’s having preceded him there, as 
had sundry unpleasant innuendoes as to his 
general “ B. J. ity,” all of which were finally 
traced to Ben Bonnaffan. 

Indeed, Bonnaffan showed a most Christian 
interest in his neighbour’s welfare, and for fear 
Jack might be overlooked by the yearlings he 
112 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 113 


took him in hand himself, a proceeding so un- 
usual for a cadet lieutenant that it occasioned no 
little comment, not only in his own class but among 
the yearlings, as well. 

“ To say the least, it’s an undignified pro- 
ceeding,” Bobby Graham had fumed, “ and I, 
for one, can’t see why a first classman should 
demean himself by hazing plebes. Carry it a 
little further and we’d have the ‘ Supe ’ and 
‘ Com ’ over here making fourth classmen do 
stunts for ’em. I tell you it’s undignified, that’s 
what it is, undignified! ” 

The little group of yearlings agreed with Gra- 
ham, to a man, most of them thinking, no doubt, 
that first class hazing was also an infringement 
on their new found rights as “ plebe-killers,” so 
Graham went on to a most respectful silence: 

“ In addition to Bonnaffan being a first class- 
man, I hear he knew Stirling before — • you see 
they’re both army boys — and I hate to say it, 
but, really, you know, it almost looks at times as 
if Bonnaffan were taking something out on the kid, 
working off some old grudge, you know! ” 

“ Oh, nonsense,” Burnham flung back, “ I 
don’t think there's a fellow in the Corps as mean 
as that, and as for Bonnaffan, why, he’s the nicest 


114 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


sort of chap. Undoubtedly he thinks Stirling 
needs discipline, for he told me himself that the 
boy is an only child and spoiled to death, espe- 
cially by an old sergeant in his father’s troop, 
a garrulous fellow quite capable of giving Stirling 
the impression that his appointment to the Acad- 
emy was a great thing for the place and that he, 
Stirling, could give the yearlings as good as 
they sent if they ever attempted to discipline 
him.” 

“ Well, if he’s had such an idea in his head,” 
Graham commented quietly, “ he’s kept it very 
much to himself, for I’ve never seen a better 
behaved plebe, and as for that visit to the K. O.’s, 
why shouldn’t he have gone there before he re- 
ported? If he’d waited and put in a permit to go 
later, it would have been different. I tell 
you Bonnaffan’s barking up the wrong tree if he 
thinks that youngster’s in need of such strenuous 
discipline.” 

Notwithstanding which, at that very moment 
Mr. Jack Stirling of the fourth class, very red, very 
hot, and steaming with perspiration, stood in Mr. 
Bonnaffan’s tent doing the double step at that 
young gentleman’s instigation. It was perhaps 
the warmest afternoon of the year and the tent 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 115 


walls, instead of affording shade from the sun, 
seemed to concentrate its rays so that the heat was 
intensified rather than diminished. 

For nearly half an hour Jack had been there, 
going through the various evolutions, and his 
head felt queer and dizzy when at a word of 
command he stopped short, wheeled, and stood at 
attention, waiting the further orders of his 
superior. Not by the droop of an eyelash would 
an onlooker have guessed how tired he really was, 
but Bonnaffan knew, and raged within himself 
that Stirling gave no sign. He was so like the 
little Jack of the old Montana days, quiet, 
stubborn, and, yes, scornful! That was what an- 
noyed Bonnaffan most, for no matter how long 
or how severe the exercises were Stirling never 
by even a look begged for quarter. That spirit 
must be broken. But how? 

There was a long silence. Then the older cadet 
got to his feet, and with an assumption of care- 
lessness said: 

“You will now black my boots, Mr. Stirling, 
and see that you get a good polish on them, sir! ” 
The plebe stared incredulously at the first class- 
man, stood irresolute for a moment, swallowed 
hard, and then very respectfully, but with an 


116 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


undercurrent of firmness not to be mistaken, he 
replied : 

“You know that is against both custom and 
regulations, Mr. Bonnaffan. No cadet is ex- 
pected to do menial service for another, sir.” 

Bonnaffan ’s pasty face went whiter than ever. 

“You decline to obey the order, Mr. Stirling? ” 
he demanded menacingly. 

“ I do, sir,” Jack made answer, quietly enough, 
though his eyes were blazing. 

Bonnaffan had seen him look so once before in 
the old Montana days when Jack had thrashed him 
for bullying a younger boy. He remembered it 
now, now when according to the traditions of the 
Academy he was Jack’s superior and could compel 
obedience. So, bringing his scowling face within 
an inch of Jack’s, he began abusively: 

“ Am I to understand, Mr. Stirling, that you are 
so unsoldierly as to carry personal relations into 
your official life? Do you refuse to obey this order 
because — well, because you don’t like me? ” 

Jack shook with indignation, but managed to 
control his voice enough to stammer out : 

“No, sir, only because blacking boots is not 
required by regulations, sir. I would not do 
menial service for any one, sir.” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 117 


Bonnaffan smiled the old irritating smile that 
used to anger the younger boys of the garrison 
even more than words. 

“ So Cadet Stirling draws the line at menial 
service? ” he began sarcastically, and then, 
bringing his face even nearer, so near that the boy 
seemed to be looking into four fierce brown eyes 
instead of two, he went on sneeringly: 

“ Am I to understand that Mr. Stirling includes 
in menial service the carrying of water, piling of 
bedding, or raising and lowering of tent flaps? ” 
“No, sir,” Jack answered, his voice trembling 
in spite of himself, “ but blacking another man’s 
boots has never been done here, sir! ’’ 

“ And you would do anything else I should 
ask you to do? Go through any kind of drill 
or any sort of formation? ” 

“ Anything I didn’t consider degrading, sir.” 
Bonnaffan felt a trifle nonplussed, but no one 
would have suspected it, for the tone in which he 
next spoke was more menacing than the words. 
It was like the crack of a whip before it descends, 
the whirr of a bullet on its way to the target. 

“So you’re quite willing to face the consequences 
of disobeying me in this matter, Mr. Stirling? ” 
“ Perfectly willing, sir,” the plebe made answer, 


118 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


and a moment later he was in his own tent finish- 
ing a letter home, a letter full of enthusiasm about 
the progress the class was making in its drills and 
breathing his hero worship for some of the older 
cadets, while between the lines one could read 
an unfeigned joy that at last he had reached the 
height of his boyish hopes and was really a cadet 
at West Point. 

Not a word about how hard the hazing had 
been. Not aline in disparagement of Ben Bonnaffan 
or his followers. Not a complaint, or even a 
grumble of any kind. Instead, the letter bore 
witness to the glamour of the place. He wrote 
as one uplifted by the glorious traditions on every 
side, his imagination taking fire at the thought 
that he was privileged to move in the same old 
paths that great national heroes had trod, and 
with the same opportunities ahead of him. 

Faster and faster flew his pen, and “ like 
Acestes’ shaft of old the swift thought kindled 
as it flew,” so that after he signed the letter 
Stirling sat there by his locker, dreaming of the 
record he should make in the history of his country ; 
unless, indeed, like many a brave soul he were 
destined to die unsung, unpraised, a living sacri- 
fice for his flag. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 119 


So engrossed was Jack in his thoughts that he 
did not look up when a shadow fell across his 
letter, and only at Faulkner’s low voiced “ Are 
you writing home, sir? ” did the boy, dazed with 
dreams of future glory, respond. Mechanically 
jumping to his feet he fumbled with the buttons 
of his blouse, but Faulkner, who shared the general 
feeling in camp that no fourth classman should 
be molested while writing home, prepared to with- 
draw. It was as much a matter of honour with 
upper classmen as not entering a plebe’s tent when 
it was empty. 

“ But I am through writing, sir,” Jack re- 
sponded earnestly, his admiration for Faulkner 
shining in his eyes. “ I had just signed my name, 
sir.” 

Faulkner turned back at once. 

“ I only wanted to say, Mr. Stirling, that you 
did quite right this afternoon in not following 
Mr. Bonnaffan’s orders in regard to doing menial 
service for him. It has just come to my attention, 
and I understand Mr. Bonnaffan is to offer you 
an apology, sir.” He hesitated a moment, looked 
at Jack keenly, and then went on: “Of course, 
if you don’t care to accept the apology there is the 
alternative of a fight, sir.” 


120 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Faulkner saw Jack’s face glow for a moment at 
the chance of giving Bonnaffan a good drubbing, 
for they were near enough of a size to have needed 
no substitute from either class. Boy-like, he 
longed to settle the whole matter with his fists, 
to have the Big Ben of long ago realize, as he had 
realized then, that he could not bully and brow- 
beat a fellow because of the accident of years. 
Oh, it would be a glorious chance to down Bonnaf- 
fan and at the same time make himself quite a 
hero in the eyes of his own classmates. Jack 
instinctively clenched his fists and felt the muscles 
of his arms swell and tighten. Then, as Faulkner 
had hoped, he put the temptation aside. 

“If Mr. Bonnaffan apologizes it will be quite 
sufficient, sir,’’ he answered quietly. 

But though Big Ben apologized, he still kept 
a watchful eye on Jack, honestly convinced that 
the boy, because of his proficiency at drills, was 
not disciplined severely enough by the yearlings. 
He remembered Jack as a daring, high-tempered 
youngster always ready to pick a quarrel either 
on his own or another’s account, nor had the lad 
ever tried to disguise his scorn of Big Ben, who 
from his age and size should rightly have been the 
leader of the garrison boys, instead of which they 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 121 


were each and every one at the beck and call of 
Jack Stirling. 

But it was not from a spirit of retaliation for 
fancied wrongs in the past that Bonnaffan made 
Stirling’s life a burden those first few weeks in 
camp. It was because he honestly believed the 
boy should be disciplined, for only in melodrama, 
after all, does the villain recognize his own 
villainy and persecute the hero with malevolent 
intent, as in real life he is much more apt to think 
of himself in the role of a knight-errant and is 
pained and surprised when public opinion fails 
to applaud his appearance, and the gallery greets 
him with hisses. 

So despite the protestations of Faulkner, and 
quite confident he was simply doing his duty, 
Bonnaffan went calmly ahead trying to break 
Jack’s spirit; though, to be sure, he was not 
above playing yearling tricks on the boy, such as 
appearing suddenly at the door of his tent and 
asking him a string of foolish questions. These, 
Stirling was obliged to answer with great gravity 
and respect, standing stiffly at attention the while. 
Also Bonnaffan waited with no little impatience 
Jack’s first night on guard, for in those days that 
was as jolly a time for the upper classmen as it 


122 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


was painful for the plebe, who had to go through 
a lot of unfamiliar red tape, the older cadets 
bothering him until he was almost crazy. 

While some of this “ deviling ” was actually 
essential to a man’s understanding of his duties, 
a great deal of it was farcical, wherein the sentinel 
challenged anything from Benedict Arnold’s lost 
and wandering soul, to the ghost of a mosquito 
slain on the Superintendent’s left ear. 

For example, a dozen people of high rank 
would appear on the post simultaneously, so 
that the poor plebe would be at a loss which to 
advance first, and in spite of himself would let 
unrecognized persons, without the countersign, 
come within the prescribed ten feet of him, or 
cross his post unchallenged. Indeed, Big Bar- 
tholomew Bayard, pestered half out of his wits 
that first night on historic Number Three, refused 
to let the Superintendent himself by until he 
had called the corporal of the guard to recognize 
him, a proceeding which won for Bartholomew 
the sobriquet of Chevalier Bayard, without fear 
and without reproach. 

But it was a lucky plebe who got through that 
first night without some military blunder or other, 
such as allowing himself to be surprised by two 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 123 


parties advancing upon him at the same time; 
or forgetting to take a charge bayonet when 
challenging, as was proper under the old guard 
manual ; or allowing a superior officer to wait 
while he advanced one of lower grade. Or, per- 
haps, some waggish yearling could induce him on 
one pretext or other to leave his post; or, worse 
still, relinquish his rifle; while if he had arrested 
all the “ suspicious persons prowling about the 
camp,” or “ all parties to a disorder occurring 
on or near his post,” he would have had his hands 
more than full. 

For Jack Stirling that first night on guard held 
no terrors, as he knew his orders and special orders 
backwards and forwards. He could say them, 
when necessary, with the addition of “ sir ” after 
each word, and he could sing them to the air of 
the “ Star Spangled Banner ” or “ Yankee 
Doodle;” notwithstanding which a party of 
yearlings, headed by Ben Bonnaffan, of course, 
decided to throw him into the Fort Clinton ditch, 
right off Number Three post, where many genera- 
tions of plebe sentinels have been foully dealt with. 

That Stirling, who had views of his own on the 
sacredness of sentinel duty, made the upper class- 
men respect a bayonet even in the hands of a 


124 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


plebe, was a foregone conclusion; and he walked 
the rest of his rainy tour unmolested, a discoloured 
eye and badly wrenched shoulder being the only 
reminders of his night of terror. 

Fortunately for the upper classmen concerned, 
the affair never leaked out, though Ben Bonnaffan 
was laid up for a week afterward with a sore leg. 
This the good natured old doctor dressed and 
bandaged with never a question as to how the 
wound was received, while the other men hurt 
in the scuffle, including Stirling himself, were 
treated in camp by a member of the yearling 
class who had attended a medical college two 
years before. That the plebe sentinel in reporting 
the matter to the corporal of the guard, as he was 
obliged to officially, had not exposed* the hazers 
made him very popular with the upper class- 
men, while all felt that he had been right in not 
allowing himself to be disarmed and thrown into 
the ditch. 

As for Ben Bonnaffan, his first day out of the 
hospital he hobbled to Stirling’s tent, and Stirling, 
seeing him standing there, was on his feet in an 
instant, stiffly at attention as became a well 
trained plebe in the presence of his superior. 

But Bonnaffan’s pasty face went suddenly red, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 125 

as, stooping to enter the tent, he mumbled an 
almost incoherent: 

“ Oh, cut it out Jack, old man, cut it out. I’m 
enough ashamed of myself as it is. I — you — 
oh, Jack, how could you have been so decent after 
the way I’ve hounded you all summer? I don’t 
feel as if I could ever hold up my head again.” 

It was Stirling’s turn to redden, and he did it 
thoroughly from forehead to chin. 

“ Why, I didn’t do more than any one else 
would have done, Mr. Bonnaffan,” he began, but 
Bonnaffan interrupted with a choking: 

“ Please don’t ‘ Mister ’ me again, Jack, as 
long as you live,” and then in answer to the look 
of incredulous amazement on Stirling’s face, 
“ that is, if you’re willing to be my friend after 
all that’s happened this summer.” 

Of course Stirling met him more than half way, 
and from that time on Ben Bonnaffan became 
Jack’s staunch ally if, indeed, Jack needed one, 
and frankly confessed he had made a mistake in 
his estimate of the boy’s character. He even 
went so far as to state that he, himself, must have 
been at fault in those old Montana days and not 
Jack, who w T as doubtless a much finer youngster 
than he had given him credit for being, Ben’s 


126 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


scale for weighing people and things having a 
different balance after three years at the Acad- 
emy. 

In fact Bonnaffan and Stirling became such 
cronies that on the eventful morning when it 
was rumoured plebes would come up for colour 
sentinels, it was in Bonnaffan’s “ spooniest ” 
white trousers Jack won the distinction, Ben 
himself having held the garments that not a single 
crease should mar their pristine freshness, while 
Bayard and Tom Winthrop lowered their tent- 
mate into them with elaborate caution, Jack, 
meanwhile being the pink of clean perfection 
from closely cropped hair to shining boots. As 
for his rifle, it had been polished so beautifully 
the night before that the steel parts were like 
so many mirrors and the walnut stock glowed 
like new. 

Earlier in the summer the plebes had helped 
different yearlings “ bone colour sentinel,” so 
they knew exactly what was expected of them 
as to clothes and accoutrements; though when it 
came to a toss-up between half a dozen men as 
to which was the most soldierly, not only in ap- 
pearance but in drill, and the plebes were put 
through the manual, most of them were so over- 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 127 


anxious to obey that they were apt to fall into 
the trap of endeavouring to come to a support 
arms from an order arms or a reverse from a 
right shoulder, either of which was rank heresy 
according to Upton. 

But Jack Stirling knew his manual well enough 
to remain rigidly in one position, whenever the 
command was not according to the tactics of that 
day, while the classmate who had shown Lis 
ignorance swallowed his disappointment as best he 
could. For beside the honour of guarding the 
battalion colours laid over stacked arms on the 
Colour Line, the three sentinels chosen had no 
night work, and on being relieved from duty were 
free to go where they pleased “ on limits,” in 
addition to which they had the regular old guard 
privileges on the following day. And so it was 
that every cadet private, irrespective of class, 
“ boned colours ” each tour on guard, and looked 
with jaundiced eyes on the immaculate three 
who attained that distinction. 

From the head of the company street Bonnaffan 
watched “ his plebe ” successfully carry off 
colours that first morning, and felt much as 
Donnelly might have felt in similar circumstances. 

“ He’s a credit to the Corps,” Ben thought to 


128 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


himself, “ and a credit to the old regiment, too.” 
Then, limping slightly from the wound in his 
leg, he walked away, ashamed to remember 
that he had led the party which tried to throw 
Stirling into the Fort Clinton ditch his first night 
on guard. 



CHAPTER NINE 


Hazing that did not interfere with his military- 
duties, Stirling accepted in good part, and many 
an evening galloped wildly up and down the 
company street on a broomstick, shooting back 
over his shoulder at imaginary Indians who were 
chasing him, Marie Harding’s vivid description 
of a similar happening in Jack’s boyhood on the 
plains, giving the yearlings material for this non- 
sense. 

Then, too, in company with other plebes he 
would be ordered to remove a log from the com- 
pany street, this log being a toothpick which 
six husky fellows had much difficulty in lifting 
from the ground, groaning and heaving as they 
finally got it on their shoulders and moved slowly 
away, staggering under its weight. Or, again, 
he would be called upon to sing a song, “ smile 
by the numbers,” make love to a pillow, or tell 
some incredible tale of Indian warfare in the West, 
one of these yams being about the time he was 

129 


130 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


killed and scalped on the streets of Chicago by 
a wooden Indian in front of a cigar store. 

When it was discovered that Stirling had a 
very good bass voice, he was excused from much 
of the nonsensical hazing and found himself in 
great demand at all the camp formations, even 
appearing in company with a half dozen other 
plebes at the Colour Line Entertainment given 
on the twenty-fifth August, when he sang a ballad of 
soldier life written expressly for him by one of the 
yearling class, a martial song in which were 
certain sly digs anent the duty of a sentinel. 
This occasioned much laughter and cheering 
among the cadet contingent of the audience, 
though no one else saw anything particularly 
amusing about it, with the exception of the old 
doctor, who was seized with a violent fit of 
coughing at that particular part of the perform- 
ance. 

Little Riggs’ hazing consisted for the most part 
of absurd allusions to his father’s position in the 
Navy and his own six months at the Naval 
Academy, though he seemed to enjoy as much 
as the spectators rowing imaginary boats with 
toothpicks for oars; saving stranded mariners; 
and making love to mermaids, both mermaids 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 131 


and mariners being represented by fat commissary 
pillows. 

“ Mr. Riggs, sir,” the yearlings would call, 
“it is striking eight bells on the mizzen-mast, 
sir,” for every landlubber when talking of nautical 
matters will drag in “ eight bells ” and “ mizzen- 
masts ” somehow or other. Whereupon Riggs, 
with a cheerful “ Aye, aye, sir,” performed the 
feat of turning himself into a lighthouse, a fog 
signal, and a whistling buoy, the lighthouse 
being the simple uncovering of his shock of red 
hair, while some direful noises represented the 
whistling buoy and fog signals. Then followed 
sea yams and a rollicking song or two with many 
a “ Yo, heave ho! ” and “ Shiver my timbers,” 
interspersed, while his sailor’s horn pipe was so 
good that its fame spread even to the Professors’ 
Row on the other side of the parade ground. 

Of course there was the usual fetching and 
carrying for upper classmen that summer; the 
cleaning of rifles ; filling of water buckets ; lower- 
ing of tent flaps; making of “ lemo,” and drink- 
ing of the same ; piling of bedding, and straighten- 
ing up of tents. As it was done fifty years before, 
as it would probably be done now, were hazing not 
entirely dispensed with at the Academy, the 


132 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


upper classmen would call a plebe to his tent and 
say: 

“You will please take notice, Mister, that my 
tent-mate and I do not ask you to do anything for 
us. Bear in mind that I wouldn’t have you wait 
on us for any consideration, so if a 1 Tac ’ should 
‘ hive ’ you carrying water or making beds you 
can truthfully say you were not requested to do 
it. You understand? Yes? Well, please, Mister, 
I don’t wish any water this morning, neither 
could I allow you, sir, to demean yourself by 
cleaning my rifle.” 

At which the poor plebe would salute respect- 
fully, to return a moment later with a bucket full 
to overflowing, when he would repair to his own 
tent and clean the aforementioned rifle. In 
like manner, some other helpless wight would 
pile the bedding, sweep out the tent, and generally 
straighten things up. 

According to their individual natures men 
hazed. Some yearlings were freezingly polite; 
some were rough; some were sarcastic; some, 
while requiring the utmost respect, treated the 
plebes as if they were human beings like them- 
selves; some showed such a hearty good will and 
liberality, that under their gruff “ Mister ” could 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 133 


be felt the beginning of a mutual friendship; 
while all were more or less liberal to their special 
duty-man in the matter of collars, belts, white 
gloves, and the like, nor was a drill master apt 
to haze the men in his own squad. 

Some of these drill masters, strict as they had 
to be, were very popular among the plebes, Cadet 
Corporal Graham being especially well liked by 
his company. In fact, big Bartholomew Bayard 
fell prey to such a case of hero worship, that 
whenever Graham’s name was mentioned, he 
would flush all over his freckled face and try to 
throw his shoulders further back, his chest further 
out in feeble imitation of that young gentle- 
man’s military carriage. 

To Graham, Bayard was simply the awkwardest 
man not only in the company, but in his own 
particular awkward squad, and when he happened 
to witness poor Bayard getting into his first dress- 
coat he had laughed till he ached, for even with 
the help of several classmates, some of whom 
squeezed in his waist while the others tugged to 
button the coat around him, Bayard had gasped, 
and panted, and perspired, till the picture he 
made standing there, red, hot, and uncomfortable, 
a martyr to the West Point slimness of waist, 


134 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


would have convulsed the Superintendent him- 
self. 

Poor old Bayard was the type of man who 
spends his life in useless sacrifice, and was so con- 
scientious that on more than one occasion he had 
reported himself, always magnifying his faults 
into vices, his peccadilloes into faults. 

Everything he did had a farcical element about 
it. Once at the swimming lesson, despite the fact 
he could only float, he had dived from the bank 
to save a classmate, who did not need saving, and 
of course, being Bayard, he dove in such shallow 
water that he brought up nothing from the bottom 
but a very sore head and a mouthful of sand. 
Again, he was talking to his tent-mates, Stirling 
and Winthrop, one day, when Stirling happened to 
notice that Bayard’s shoes were untied. Still 
talking, Bayard stooped to repair the damage, 
and just as he raised his head a couple of yearlings 
appeared at the door of the tent, whereupon 
Bayard sprang to attention, only to fall flat on 
his face at the yearlings’ feet, for all unconsciously 
he had tied his shoes together. 

It almost seemed at times as if he were destined 
to go through life a target for the jokes of Fate, 
a butt for her ridicules, a human epitome of the 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 135 


ludicrous, while Cadet Corporal Graham was 
quoted as having said that Bayard made so many 
bulls and blunders he must have been bom under 
the constellation of Taurus. 

Although Bayard knew the corporal’s opinion 
of him, he still aspired to great things, and his 
dreams at night were filled with saving the 
yearling’s life at great bodily peril to himself, 
while his days were spent in emerging from one 
difficulty only to be engulfed by another. 

One hot afternoon in July from his tent across 
the company street, Bayard watched the corporal 
at work on some official papers, for in addition to 
being a drill master over plebes, Graham had been 
given some special reports to copy. This work 
carried with it the proud distinction of running 
lights up to twelve o’clock, not to mention the 
luxury of having a chair and table in his tent, 
and being excused from all guard duty. 

Polishing away at some upper classman’s 
rifle, Bayard watched his idol furtively and wished, 
as he had wished so often, that he might be given 
a chance to serve him at any cost whatever. To 
have looked at Bayard, no one would have credited 
him with such burning thoughts, for his freckled 
face was red and greasy, with one long smutch 


136 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


across it from the gun he was cleaning, this slip- 
ping more than once through his clumsy fingers 
to the huge disgust of his rather irascible tent- 
mate, Winthrop. 

Across the street, Bobby Graham, utterly 
unaware of the plebe’s admiration, was grumbling 
to himself that yearling camp was not all his 
imagination had pictured it, for instead of the easy 
time he had anticipated on leaving barracks *he 
had to write reports until late every night, not 
to mention drilling plebes three hours a day, and 
the “ grossest ” plebes that had ever come to the 
Academy, at that. 

To be sure, his special detail excused him from 
guard duty, but in such unbearably hot weather 
it was hard to work overtime as he was doing, 
especially when all his classmates were lying 
around the camp sleeping the drowsy afternoon 
away, or else sauntering around Flirtation Walk 
with one of the numerous jolly girls on the post. 

Time and again he stopped to wipe his moist 
hands that they might not blur the perfection of 
the closely written pages before him, and time 
and again he fanned himself feebly, gasping at the 
heat of the small tent. 

It was not until late afternoon that his work 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 137 


was finally completed, and with a sigh of relief 
he pushed it from him and started to get up, only 
to have the sigh merge into a gasp of dismay, 
for by a sudden awkward movement he had 
upset the ink bottle, and before he could prevent 
it a black, sluggish stream was drowning hours 
of hard work. 

With the dullness of despair, Graham proceeded 
to mop up the ink from the table, and a moment 
later he was busily engaged on a new set of reports, 
his straight brows drawn together in an ominous 
frown. 

Suddenly conscious of a shambling step passing 
the tent, he looked up to discover the awkwardest 
man in his plebe squad, long, lank Bartholomew 
Bayard walking past, and walking as no plebe 
has a right to walk, with swinging arms and chin 
down on his chest, for he evidently felt that the 
hour and the heat of the afternoon protected him 
from keen yearling eyes. 

Angered at the man’s slouching gait, and still 
smarting over the destruction of his papers, 
Graham was on his feet in an instant. Only 
that morning he had almost despaired of Bayard 
in the manual of arms, for the least clumsiness 
in a man’s make-up shows plainer, perhaps, in 


138 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


the handling of a gun than in any other way, and 
Bayard was as clumsy as a Newfoundland puppy, 
all feet and legs, with an enormous head that 
might have been put on his shoulders by mistake. 

Reaching the door of his tent at a single bound, 
Graham called after the retreating figure: 

“ Mr. Bayard, oh, Mr. Bayard, come here a 
moment, sir.” 

Mr. Bayard, throwing back his shoulders and 
holding up his head, swung around in the slow 
way so exasperating to his alert young instructor. 
Moreover, the shape of Mr. Bayard’s huge mouth 
and its prominent teeth gave the impression that 
he was smiling, even when nothing was more 
remote from his thoughts, this chronic air of 
mirthfulness costing him much in demerits during 
his stay at the Academy. Just now that uncon- 
scious display- of dentition was the proverbial 
straw that broke the back of the cadet corporal’s 
temper. 

“ Wipe off that smile, Mr. Bayard,” he howled 
w T rathfully as the plebe approached his tent. 
“ What are you celebrating anyway? Haven’t 
you learned yet to control your risibles? Don’t 
you know it’s insulting to grin like a Cheshire 
cat in the presence of your superiors? ” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 139 


Mr. Bayard obediently pulled his long upper 
lip over the offending teeth, but even then he had 
the appearance of fairly exploding with repressed 
mirth, the radiating lines about the honest blue 
eyes contributing to an effect of jollity much at 
variance with his feelings. 

^ It was a hot day and Bartholomew was tired, 
but he went through some much needed exercises 
at the instigation of his drill master with an alac- 
rity which warmed that young gentleman’s heart 
and made him quite forget his ill temper, for it 
0 * was plain to be seen that Bayard really wanted to 
learn ; though Graham might have been surprised 
had he known that the hero worshipping plebe 
considered it an honour to double step for the 
cadet corporal, and had shambled by his tent 
in the faint hope that his hero might notice him. 
Up to that time Graham’s attitude toward plebes 
had been one of kingly condescension that held 
them off at arm’s length, more the pose of the first 
classman than the yearling, and one which made 
him seem in their eyes but little lower than the 
Superintendent himself. 

That he had stooped to haze him, filled poor 
Bayard’s heart so full of joy that he finally found 
it hard work to keep his prominent teeth 


140 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


hidden ; the long upper lip pulled down to 
cover them, the deep set eyes, and the rather in- 
significant nose, combining in an effect nothing 
short of simian. Bob Graham noticed the resem- 
blance, and changed the performance to a series 
of monkey tricks, Bayard entering into the spirit 
of the thing with the utmost good nature, and 
adding greatly to the fun by chattering and 
scratching himself in approved monkey fashion. 

The autocrat showed his appreciation. 

“ If you only learn to handle a gun as well as 
you act the monkey, Mr. Bayard, you’ll be made 
a corporal next June,” and then remembering 
that it was almost time for afternoon inspection, 
he dismissed the plebe with a patronizing: “You 
may go now, Mr. Bayard, or rather, Mr. Crowley, 
for you can certainly make yourself into the 
* spi’t’n’ image ’ of that noble beast in Central 
Park.” 

In a moment Bayard was on his feet, backing 
respectfully towards the tent opening, when the 
cadet corporal decided he should leave in a manner 
more befitting his comical face. So the great raw 
boned country boy got down on his hands and 
knees again, only too pleased that the object of 
his admiration found pleasure in his antics. 



;; 


a 


IN A MOMENT THE PLEBE HAD RECOVERED HIMSELF 


































































AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 141 


As he emerged from the tent on all fours, he 
ran full tilt into the officer in charge, who for some 
unknown reason was making his rounds slightly 
ahead of time. 

In a moment the plebe had recovered himself, 
and after a rather ludicrous attempt at picking 
something out of the dust of the company street, 
a palpable effort at concealing he was down on 
his hands and knees for the purpose of being 
hazed, he stood erect and with surprising presence 
of mind stuffed the imaginary thing just picked up 
into the front of his blouse. Then, standing stiffly 
to one side, he saluted the tactical officer. 

It was Lieutenant Truitt of B Company, and 
his face showed that he was puzzled as to whether 
or not he had “ hived ” a case of hazing, but he 
took the plebe’s name before dismissing him, 
adding that in fifteen minutes he should expect 
Mr. Bayard to report to him in person at the head 
of B Company street. Then he stepped to the door 
of Graham’s tent. 

The cadet corporal, deeply engrossed in writing 
out a new set of reports, looked up expectantly 
as a shadow fell across his paper. Upon seeing 
the young officer standing there, he sprang to 
attention. 


142 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ Are you alone, sir? ” snapped the tactical 
officer sharply. 

“ I am, sir,” answered the cadet corporal with 
an admirable show of surprise. 

“ Have any upper classmen been in your tent 
within the last half hour? ” went on the inexorable 
voice. 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Has any fourth classman been here? ” 

“Yes, sir,” replied the yearling, very slowly 
this time. 

“ And his name, Mr. Graham? ” 

“ Bayard, sir. Mr. Bayard of A Company.” 

The officer started to ask another question, 
hesitated, and a moment later was swinging off 
towards his own tent, leaving the yearling still 
standing at attention. 

Suddenly poor Graham collapsed in a huddled 
heap on his locker, for he knew that to be de- 
tected in hazing meant either dismissal, or at the 
very least, reduction to the ranks. 

At last he pulled himself together and started 
over towards B Company, meaning to confer 
with his friend Burnham. Half way there, he 
saw Mr. Bayard of the fourth class walking in the 
same direction, his shoulders stiffly back, his little 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


143 


fingers on the seams of his trousers, his blue eyes 
straight to the front. 

The cadet corporal halted and watched with 
visible anxiety the course taken by the plebe. 

As he feared, Mr. Bayard halted in front of 
Lieutenant Truitt’s tent. 

Stifling something strangely like a sob, Graham 
turned on his heel and retraced his steps towards 
his own tent. 

A court-martial was inevitable now, and hardly 
less inevitable was the fact that he would be found 
guilty of hazing, which meant either a reduction 
to the ranks or — dismissal ! 



CHAPTER TEN 


Meanwhile Cadet Private Bayard of the 
fourth class stood in front of Lieutenant Truitt’s 
tent. 

After what seemed hours of waiting, the young 
officer looked up and called out a gruff: 

“ Come in, Mr. Bayard.” 

Bayard obeyed with alacrity, his freckled face 
one burning blush, his big hands shaking at his 
sides. 

The lieutenant looked him over very gravely. 

“ Mr. Bayard,” he began, “ the Tactical De- 
partment is anxious to put a stop to any unauthor- 
ized interference with new cadets, and while there 
have been no complaints from your class, still 
I cannot but feel there has been some tendency on 
the part of the older men to do more than drill 
and discipline you. Am I right, Mr. Bayard.” 

The plebe was speechless, and the lieutenant, 
seeing that he did not want to answer so general 
an accusation, came down to the case in question. 

“ As I inspected A Company street just now, 
144 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 145 


it was apparent that you were being hazed by Mr. 
Graham of the third class. Will you kindly tell 
me what he compelled you to do for him? ” 

Still Bayard hesitated, at which the lieutenant 
had something to say on the necessity of breaking 
up hazing at West Point, not that he considered 
it was ever carried to the extent known in other 
schools and colleges, but that the Military Acad- 
emy, belonging as it did to the public, had to con- 
sider the sentiments of the people on the subject. 
It was the Superintendent’s desire to stamp out 
the practice entirely, which could only be done 
by making an example of any one caught inter- 
fering with new cadets. 

As Bayard still had nothing to say, the officer 
repeated his question as to whether or not the 
plebe had been hazed that afternoon by the 
cadet corporal, and this time he spoke more 
sharply. 

Bayard hesitated a moment, then remembering 
how a boy in the village school at home had lied 
to save a classmate, and how he had become the 
hero of the hour because of this evasion of the 
truth, he let his big, honest eyes rest on the lieu- 
tenant’s puzzled face, and after a great gulp or 
two blurted out a husky : 


146 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“No, sir, Mr. Graham wasn’t hazing me.” 

“ What! ” ejaculated the tactical officer, who 
had evidently expected an affirmative reply. “ Do 
you mean to say that Mr. Graham was not hazing 
you this afternoon when you came out of his tent 
on your hands and knees ? What were you doing 
that for, may I ask? ” 

“ Why, I ; — I just dropped my handkerchief, 
and stooping to pick it up sort of stumbled. That 
was all.” 

The tactical officer surveyed the plebe coldly. 

“ And you mean to tell me that Mr. Graham 
did not ask you to do anything that might be con- 
sidered undignified? ” 

The plebe, now very white, shook his head 
firmly. 

“ No, sir, Mr. Graham didn’t make me do any- 
thing at all, sir. I just went into the tent to ask 
him a question about drill. He’s always been 
very good to me, Mr. Graham has, and treats me 
like a brother, sir.” 

The tactical officer, knowing how strongly the 
line of demarcation has to be drawn between 
old and new cadets to insure discipline, looked 
more mystified than ever, but in duty bound 
he went on with the usual questions. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 147 


“ So Mr. Graham did not address you in an 
insulting or a bullying way? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ And his manner was not in the least threaten- 
ing? He didn’t give you orders of any descrip- 
tion? Or compel you to go through exercises 
of any kind? ” 

Poor Bayard, although remembering too well 
the “ jay bird step ” he had practised in Graham’s 
tent, shook his head miserably. 

“ No, sir, he didn’t force me to do anything at 
all, just answered my questions about the drill, 
and told me to call on him whenever I needed 
help,” and Bayard said it with a firmness bom 
of the belief that he was doing right to shield 
a fellow cadet. 

Once again the lieutenant fairly held those 
honest blue eyes in his. 

“ That will do, Mr. Bayard,” he ventured at 
last, and Mr. Bayard, in spite of the fact that 
he thought he was doing right, coloured up 
under the lieutenant’s evident belief in his in- 
tegrity. 

Returning to his tent, he thrilled with anticipa- 
tory pleasure at the thought of telling Graham 
how he had saved him. What a hero he would be! 


148 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Not only with the yearlings, but with the whole 
Corps, for Graham was a universal favourite. He 
would be modest when Graham thanked him. 
He would try to pass it off with a wave of the 
hand, a careless “ Why, that was nothing! A 
man would do anything for his friends! ” much 
as the boy at home had answered the praise of 
his school fellows. He told no one of the interview 
with the tactical officer, preferring to let the 
Corps hear of it through other channels, but he 
tasted the joy of self-sacrifice and found it sweet 
to the palate. At last he had proved his worth, 
not only to his own class but to the yearlings, 
as well, not to mention those mighty first class- 
men who up to that time had not so much as 
deigned to notice him. 

From now on he would be a marked figure. He 
had saved a third classman from certain dis- 
missal, or, at the very least, a loss of ofhciahrank, 
and he had a premonition that in the future he 
and Graham would be more than friends, closer 
than brothers. 

Nor did he have long to wait before telling 
his story, as the cadet corporal sent for him after 
the battalion’s return from supper that night, 
and the plebe, as excited as a small boy walking up 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 149 


for the first prize in Sunday-school, stepped across 
the company street. 

Hungry as Bayard was for affection, his 
famished soul in his eyes, he told Graham the 
story of how he had saved him, dwelling first 
on the lieutenant’s questions which, subtle as they 
were, had not been successful in forcing an in- 
criminating admission from his lips, but Graham 
meanwhile kept strangely silent. This Bayard 
interpreted as regret for his former harsh tone 
towards him; so with a proper Christian spirit, 
he next proceeded to let Mr. Graham understand 
that he bore him no ill will, and would do as much 
for him again should it be necessary. Finally in 
his big, shy, awkward way, he congratulated 
Graham on not losing his official scalp. 

The cadet corporal let the plebe tell his story 
to the end, jogging his memory occasionally when 
he seemed unable to exactly recall what the 
lieutenant had said or what he had replied, but 
when Bayard finally reached his last period and 
listened for the word of praise he so confidently 
expected, he was surprised to see that the object of 
his adoration was regarding him with an ex- 
pression anything but kindly. At last Graham 
spoke, and his voice sounded as if he were giv- 


150 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


ing orders at drill, sharp, decisive, almost harsh. 

“ Mr. Bayard,” he began, and every word 
cut into the poor plebe’s heart like a whip-lash, 
“ Mr. Bayard, sir, do you realize that your con- 
duct has been unbecoming a cadet and a gentle- 
man? Do you understand that you have made 
a false official statement? Do you appreciate 
the fact that you could be ‘ cut ’ by the Corps 
for your action to-day? ” 

Bayard stared at the cadet corporal incredu- 
lously. 

“ But — but I did it to save you,” he stam- 
mered, “ to prevent them from court-martialling 
you. It would have meant the loss of your chev- 
rons — perhaps dismissal — ” 

The cadet corporal flicked an infinitesimal speck 
of dust from the new chevrons and smiled a queer 
little smile that made the plebe very uncomfort- 
able. 

“ Mr. Bayard,” he said not unkindly, “ the 
cadet code of honour is a strange one, perhaps. 
It is also very strict, and first and foremost in 
that code is truthfulness.” 

Bayard started and a slow colour spread over 
his homely, freckled face. He moistened his dry 
lips to speak, but no words came, and to his horror 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 151 


the quick tears sprang to his eyes. Graham 
picked up a pen from the table before him and 
rolled it back and forth between the palms of his 
hands. Then he went on talking, as if in answer 
to Bayard’s unspoken thought: 

“ Of course I realize you — er — ” he hesitated 
on the word “ lied,” “you did it to save me, and 
I also know that by the standard of many schools 
you did a manly thing, but judging it by West 
Point’s code it was a false official statement, the 
worst crime in our calendar. If a yearling had 
done the same thing, either to save himself or 
another, he’d have been ‘ cut ’ by the whole 
Corps. With a plebe, it’s different. He couldn’t 
be expected to know any better, and — your 
motive was good.” For a moment the stem eyes 
twinkled with something akin to amusement, 
the chevalier’s many acts of heroism throughout 
plebe camp having already gone down in history 
for future generations of cadets. 

“ Also I like the spirit that prompted you to 
stand by me after my merciless hazing of this 
afternoon. It shows you’re made of good stuff, 
Mr. Bayard, and however this affair turns out I 
shall always remember it.” Then before Bayard 
could edge in so much as a grateful glance he went 


on: 


152 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ Of course you must see Lieutenant Truitt 
as soon as possible and retract your statements 
of this afternoon. You must let him know it was 
a misapprehension on your part, that you didn’t 
understand the rules of the game, and all that! ” 

Bayard stared at his companion incredulously, 
forgetting for the moment that he was a high 
ranking corporal and not a plebe like himself. 

“ What? ” he cried. “ Are you going to make 
me go back to the officer in charge and eat my 
words at the cost of your chevrons, your possible 
cadetship? Why, what good can it do now? I’ve 
had my lesson, and you’re safe! Why not let it 
rest there? ” 

The cadet corporal threw the plebe a scornful 
glance. 

“ If you stay here a few weeks longer, Mister, 
you’ll understand why. Do you suppose I’d 
wear chevrons at the cost of another man’s 
honour? ” 

“ But — nobody else knows it,” stammered 
Bayard. 

Graham got to his feet so quickly that his chair 
fell over. 

“ I know it! ” he thundered. “ And I know, 
too, you’ve made a false official statement, Mr. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 153 


Bayard. It’s up to you to make it right, sir. 
If you don’t, I shall. That’ll do, sir,” and with 
the return of his old manner Graham had dis- 
missed the plebe. 

A few moments later and Bayard was closeted 
with Lieutenant Truitt. It did not take long to 
tell his story. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he wound up, “ I didn’t realize 
I was guilty of conduct unbecoming a cadet and 
a gentleman. I thought I was doing the manly 
thing to shield him, sir. It isn’t easy for me to 
he, but he — he was furious about it. He said 
the Corps would cut me if they ever found it out. 
He said it was a false official statement. He told 
me — ” 

“ He? ” interrupted the lieutenant tersely. 
“ To whom are you referring, Mr. Bayard? ” 

“ Why, to Mr. Graham, sir,” he stammered. 
“ He told me I’d done wrong. He said the code 
of honour at West Point wouldn’t allow a man 
to lie, even to shield a friend. He said he wouldn’t 
wear chevrons at the cost of another man’s 
honour, and that I was to come and tell you the 
whole story, or he would do it himself.” 

The officer in charge looked up quickly. 

“ Mr. Graham was quite right,” he answered 


154 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


in a low tone, almost as if he were thinking aloud, 
“ and you did well to report yourself, Mr. Bayard.” 
Then, more gravely still, “ Since you were fairly 
unversed in West Point customs, and considering 
that as soon as you realized the enormity of a false 
official statement, you came freely and voluntarily 
to make amends for it, I shall accept your last 
statement as the one you desired to make origi- 
nally, feeling certain this incident will show you 
that a good soldier needs more than courage and 
subordination in his make-up. Honour is the sum- 
total of West Point life, and no evasion of the 
truth is permissible. As Mr. Graham told you, 
a man detected in a falsehood would be shunned 
by the Corps as a moral leper, for a cadet’s word 
of honour is as binding as another man’s oath.” 
The plebe lowered his blue eyes to the dapper 
little officer’s face. 

“ I understand, sir,” he returned solemnly, 
“ and I thank you for being so lenient with 
me. 

The lieutenant answered curtly, and by a gesture 
dismissed the cadet, but Bayard still lingered at 
attention. 

'‘Well — well, what is it? ” demanded the 
officer sharply. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 155 


Bayard flushed at his own temerity. 

“ Mr. Graham, sir,” he breathed, “ can’t you 
let him off, too, sir? ” 

The officer’s mouth twitched to repress a smile, 
but he answered gravely: 

“ Mr. Bayard, it is not customary at West 
Point for the Tactical Department to discuss such 
matters with cadets, but in this one instance I 
think I shall tell you that Mr. Graham will have 
to face court-martial charges.” 

Bayard started violently. 

“You see,” the lieutenant went on in good- 
natured explanation, “ I caught Mr. Graham 
red-handed, and must report him although, in 
the circumstances, I dislike doing so exceed- 
ingly.” 

The plebe’s mouth, in a vain effort to control 
its trembling, drew down comically over the big 
teeth, but the distressed look in the blue eyes 
showed only too plainly that he had no desire 
to laugh. The lieutenant saw he was really 
deeply moved and said in a reassuring way: 

“ As I infer from your interest in Mr. Graham, 
his hazing could not have been of a brutal charac- 
ter. This you will be given an opportunity to 
prove before the court, and I doubt if the sentence 


156 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


will be more severe than to reduce him to ranks 
and confine him to the limits of the encampment 
during the remainder of the summer.” 

To Bayard this seemed a most inadequate re- 
turn for the cadet corporal’s little fun at his ex- 
pense, but when the sentence of the court was 
published at parade some three weeks later the 
ex-corporal seemed to think differently, for that 
night on the return of the battalion from supper, 
Private Graham of the third class appeared at the 
opening of Private Bayard’s tent. 

Instantly the plebe was on his feet at attention, 
but Graham, looking around to see that he was 
not observed, came forward with outstretched 
hand. 

“ Bayard,” he began, “ you’re a brick! ” 

The plebe tried to prove it by turning the 
colour of that article in its natural state. He had 
been called Bayard by an upper classman, Bayard 
without the objectionable Mr. 

“Yes, sir,” went on the ex-corporal, “if it 
hadn’t been for your testimony at the court- 
martial, and your making light of everything, 
as you did, saying you really enjoyed it and all 
that, I’d be on my way back to Boston now. 
You were a brick from the very start, old man, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 157 


though your method of shielding me may have 
been open to criticism.” 

Bayard blushed still more furiously, and 
Graham, a little ill at ease himself, thrust a tar- 
nished old belt buckle into the plebe’s hand. 

“ Do you see that buckle, Bayard? ” he de- 
manded, with a boyish avoidance of anything 
like -sentiment, “Well, whenever an upper class- 
man requests your service during the remainder 
of the summer, just yank out that buckle and 
start to cleaning it hard. See? Mind, you’re clean- 
ing it for Mr. Graham of the third class, and don’t 
let anything interfere with it. I want it com- 
pleted by the time we break up camp and march 
back to barracks. Do you understand? ” 

Just then a second yearling loomed up in the 
doorway, but Graham went on talking to the 
plebe, telling him the buckle must be polished 
till it could be used for a mirror and then, turning 
to the yearling, he exclaimed: 

“ Why, hello, Scotty, looking for some one to 
clean your rifle? Well, you’ve got to look further 
than this, my boy, for I’ve just engaged Mr. 
Bayard, here, to polish up my belt buckle. What 
about Mr. Van Norsdell? They say he can make 
a rifle look like new,” and arm in arm, the upper 


158 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


classmen went off in search of Van Norsdell, 
leaving Bayard standing in the middle of the floor, 
staring stupidly at a belt buckle in his hand and 
scarce realizing that it meant for him a talisman 
against any form of hazing for the remainder of 
his plebe camp. 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 


As might have been expected, the officers 
of the Anti-Hazing Society, Schuyler Van Nors- 
dell, little Lampton, and Tom Winthrop, came 
in for a goodly share of discipline that summer, 
the older cadets having an unerring instinct 
for those fourth classmen most in need of that 
primary lesson for the young soldier, subordina- 
tion; and while Lampton and Van Norsdell 
emerged from the ordeal somewhat chastened 
in spirit, Winthrop fretted at the restrictions 
and several times ran amuck. This resulted in 
his hurting nobody but himself, and attaining 
thereby the reputation of being the “ B. J. est ” 
plebe in camp, with the possible exception of 
little Riggs, whose “ B. J. ity ” was of such a 
comical, unpremeditated nature that it won him 
friends in the Corps, while Winthrop’s was of the 
surly, unwilling kind that made him an Ishmaelite 
even among his own classmates. 

To Jack Stirling and Bartholomew Bayard, 
169 


160 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


who shared his tent, Winthrop’s conduct was 
incomprehensible, but on more than one occasion 
they helped him out of difficulties, especially 
the confinements which would have resulted from 
his carelessness in “ policing ” the tent his week 
in charge, Winthrop having a sublime disregard 
for that West Point rule of a place for everything 
and everything in its place. Moreover, he had 
conceived the idea before entering the Academy, 
that his father’s position and great wealth would 
protect him from the menial duty of cleaning 
camp along with men whose immediate ancestors 
were not unfamiliar with manual labour, for 
it was quite beyond Winthrop’s comprehension 
that the son of the Secretary of State should be 
expected to sweep the company street, pick up 
feathers from the general parade after one of the 
numerous pillow fights there, or mix “ lemo ” 
for some lazy yearling. 

It also hurt his pride to pile bedding and carry 
water for a man who, to his positive knowledge, 
was the son of an obscure farmer in the West ; and 
he felt it an insult that a young gentleman of his 
distinguished ancestry should march in ranks, 
shoulder by shoulder, with men who, as far as their 
social positions went, were not fit to black his 
boots. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 161 


He had not dreamed, from the dashing young 
officers met in Washington, that West Pointers 
could ever be chosen from any but the best 
families. Yet he had been told that Joe Fitch, 
one of the hop managers of the first class, and it 
must be admitted a very gentlemanly fellow, 
was the son of a day labourer in Milwaukee, while 
Crawford and Larrabee, two very prominent 
yearlings, were country boys right off a farm; 
and the great Faulkner’s most intimate friend, 
good natured Jim Little, had the strangest rela- 
tives now visiting on the post, regular guys they 
were in clothes that might have been an excellent 
fit for somebody else, and of a fashion long past. 

In his own class, before the uniform that levelled 
them all to the same grade was adopted, he could 
not but note the preponderance of raw-boned, 
awkward country boys, while one of his tent- 
mates was surely not a fit associate for a gentle- 
man, though Jack Stirling, whose ancestry was 
beyond question, seemed very good to the fellow. 
Indeed, Stirling was actually shocked at Win- 
throp’s most sensible suggestion that between 
them they could hire Bayard to do the “ police 
work ” in their own tent, ' Bayard evidently 
being accustomed to such drudgery, while he 


162 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


and Jack were obviously not in the least fitted 
for it. 

Horrified as Stirling had been at this premedi- 
tated violation of the 36th Article of War, which 
provides that no soldier shall hire another to do 
his duty for him, he still tried from that kindliness 
of heart which always puts the best possible 
construction on other people’s acts, to interpret 
Winthrop’s suggestion as sheer ignorance of army 
customs, and in his boyish way he tried to help 
his tent-mate to a better realization of the life 
ahead of him. 

“ But I’m just as good as that stuck-up little 
Bobby Graham,” Winthrop had protested gloom- 
ily. “ His grandfather and mine were friends and 
equals, yet he treats me like the dust beneath 
his feet. I can stand hazing better than that 
4 keep your distance ’ manner of his, and he hasn’t 
come down off his stilts a bit since his well merited 
reduction to the ranks. Oh, it makes me furious 
to have to spring to attention every time he 
appears at the tent opening, and call him ‘ sir ’ 
and ‘ Mister ’ and all that. I don’t see, con- 
sidering that we’re both of equally good stock, 
and that my father’s position to-day is even better 
than his father’s, why we couldn’t be friends. I 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 163 


don’t care to be treated as his social inferior when 
he knows that I’m every whit as good as he is,” 
and the proud nostrils curled slightly as the 
handsome dark eyes glared defiance at the high 
handed manner of the former yearling corporal. 

Jack suppressed a smile. 

“ Of course you’re just as good as Graham,” 
he answered patiently, “ but if the line wasn’t 
sharply drawn between plebes and upper classmen 
they couldn’t drill or discipline us properly. 
You recognize that as well as I do.” 

Still Winthrop kicked at the pricks, and as the 
summer wore on he found the rigid discipline 
more unbearable, the daily routine more irksome, 
the lack of intercourse between the two upper 
classes and his own more galling. The very sound 
of the drums and fifes got on his nerves, and he 
hated the thunder of the sea-coast guns and the 
roar of light artillery at morning drills, no less 
than he did the plebes’ mock artillery work, it 
seeming such a childish thing to go through all the 
motions of loading, aiming, and firing without any 
resulting noise. 

Where others heard strains of martial music 
and saw w T ell drilled, splendidly muscled young 
men swinging off to this duty or that in perfect 


164 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


cadence, Winthrop heard the Rogues’ March and 
felt himself one of a chain-gang, sullen, unhappy, 
resentful. With no love in his heart for the pro- 
fession of a soldier, and no ambition to do aught 
with his manifold duties than shirk them, he was 
as unhappy a plebe as ever depressed his toes or 
“finned out ’’ on a company street. 

Because of some direct disobedience of orders 
he found himself in arrest more than once that 
summer, while personal difficulties with upper 
classmen led to several fights in historic old Fort 
Clinton, where for many generations cadet quar- 
rels have been settled and lifelong friendships have 
arisen, phoenix-like, from the ashes of a burned 
out, fought out, misunderstanding. 

The night of the furloughmen’s return to camp, 
Winthrop was on guard and many were the pranks 
played on him by those merry hearted youngsters, 
irresponsible after a long summer away from 
military restraint. But Winthrop, who had of 
necessity scorned delights and lived laborious 
days, was in no mood to be badgered by any one, 
and he kept the corporal of the guard on the jump 
by calling for assistance every few minutes; 
though each time the corporal arrived on the 
scene there would be nobody in sight but the 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 165 


surly plebe sentinel, who had failed to keep his 
wits about him and knew as little of his orders 
as the rawest recruit his first night on 
guard. 

“ There’s no more hope of Winthrop ever mak- 
ing a soldier than there is of my turning into a 
ballet dancer,” stormed Connelly on his last 
return to the guard tent where Faulkner, as officer 
of the day, was preparing to make his rounds. 
“ Why, the man barely understands the limits 
and extent of his post, let alone his general 
orders!” 

“ The furloughmen are probably ‘ deviling ’ the 
life out of him,” murmured Faulkner sympa- 
thetically, a memory of his own plebe experience 
in similar circumstances coming back to him 
vividly. 

“Yes, but Raymond of the fourth class is on 
Number Three and has handled the situation 
like a veteran. It’s because Winthrop is so igno- 
rant of his orders that the furloughmen are giving 
him trouble.” 

Without answering, Faulkner stepped out into 
the night, his grave young face graver than ever 
with the responsibilities devolving upon him as 
officer of the day, this dignitary being held ac- 


166 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


countable for any disturbance in camp or negli- 
gence of sentinels. 

To be officer of the day is the height of West 
Point official life, the most responsible duty 
a cadet can perform and not always a very 
pleasant one, for with all the glory of having the 
guard turned out in one’s honour and being en- 
titled to the highest salute from sentinels, there 
is yet more work and responsibility about the 
position than glory, though not a man in the 
Corps but longed to be treated by friend and foe 
with the rigid respect and deference the position 
demands. 

Arrived on Winthrop’s post, the officer of the 
day put him through several tests which showed 
that the plebe’s knowledge of sentry duty was 
not what it should have been, whereupon he pro- 
ceeded to instruct Winthrop in his duties, making 
him stand at a port arms, the while he stumbled 
through his general orders which that late in the 
summer he should have known backwards and 
forwards. 

Badgered as he had already been by the fur- 
loughmen, and in his ignorance not recognizing 
that Faulkner, as officer of the day, had a perfect 
right to put him through his paces, Winthrop 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 167 


in a sudden uncontrollable rage, gave vent to it 
by a muttered word or two that sounded strangely 
like profanity. 

Faulkner, properly indignant, though he could 
scarcely believe his ears, called for the corporal 
of the guard to relieve the sentinel from duty and 
take him to the guard-tent. As Connelly came 
running up, Winthrop repeated whatever he had 
said, the corporal interpreting it as Faulkner had, 
while from near by tents a half dozen plebes, 
including Riggs, Gronna, and Burges of Maine, 
asked each other in horrified whispers if they had 
really heard aright, it seeming well nigh incredible 
that any one could have used profanity to that 
most exalted person, the officer of the day. 

Next morning after guard-mounting, when 
Winthrop was released from the guard-tent, pend- 
ing further investigation, the enormity of his 
offence in having so much as spoken disrespectfully 
to the officer of the day was made plain to him 
by Stirling, who had no more than finished when 
the ominous clink of the cadet adjutant’s sword 
was heard outside the tent. A moment later and 
Mr. Winthrop of the fourth class was standing 
rigidly at attention, while he listened to the fateful 
words that by order of the Commandant placed 


168 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


him in close arrest. That night at parade a 
“hefty skin,” in the language of the Point, was 
read out against Mr. Winthrop, the most serious 
charge being the use of profane language to the 
officer of the day while Winthrop was serving as 
a sentinel on post. 

If the Corps was horrified and amazed at the 
charges, it was even more thunder-struck at 
W T inthrop’s written explanation, for in it he denied 
outright that he had used profanity when speak- 
ing to Faulkner, and this though eight good men 
were willing to testify that they had heard him. 
According to Winthrop, what he really said was 
that if Faulkner didn’t move on he would “ ram ” 
him with his bayonet and “ yell ” for the corporal 
of the guard, the unconscious rhyming of these 
words with those Faulkner understood him to have 
used being as near as he had come to swearing. 

Nothing could have been sterner than Faulkner’s 
face as he read this ingenious explanation, and 
though the corporal of the guard was rather 
inclined to think that they both might have 
misunderstood what Winthrop said, a cadet’s 
word of honour never being questioned, the 
Commandant, on talking the matter over with 
the first classman, concluded to have charges 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 169 


preferred against Winthrop, not only for using 
profanity when a sentinel on post but for making 
a false official statement. 

At the court-martial that followed close upon 
the Corps’ removal to barracks, Winthrop stuck 
to his original story, after first swearing that he 
would “ tell the truth, the whole truth, and noth- 
ing but the truth ; ” and he was so much in earnest 
on the witness stand and produced so good an 
impression on the court by his direct, manly way 
of answering all questions, that he was acquitted 
of making a false official statement, and the offence 
was changed to unbecoming conduct on guard. 
This saved him to the Academy, his sentence 
being three months in light prison with extra 
tours on the area every Saturday afternoon until 
the following March. 

The Corps was in a perfect frenzy of excite- 
ment over the whole affair, but divided in opinion, 
even after the finding of the court was published, 
as to whether or not Winthrop was guilty. Half 
the men sided with the popular first classman, who 
in their eyes could do no wrong, while the other 
half were inclined to believe that even Faulkner, 
infallible as he seemed, might have been mis- 
taken. 


170 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Fortunately for Winthrop his own class, with 
the exception of Riggs and his tent-mates Burges 
of Maine and Gronna of Idaho, were inclined to 
stand by him. But even as it was, Winthrop felt 
keenly the disgrace of being cut by the first class, 
which to a man upheld Faulkner, while many 
splendid fellows in the other two classes never 
exchanged a word with the miserable plebe from 
that day on, except officially. According to those 
in the study of “ heat,” their manner was as 
minus 493 degrees Fahrenheit, and with no chance 
of thawing even if Winthrop’s subsequent honesty, 
courage, and obedience to authority brought him 
in first class year the much coveted position of first 
captain or adjutant. 

Easily wounded, like most self-centred people, 
Winthrop suffered torments at his ostracism, 
though never by word or look did he show how 
tight the screws were on. 

Even Jack Stirling, who had stood by Winthrop 
manfully throughout the whole affair, and as 
evidence of his sincerity had asked Winthrop to 
share his room for the year, never dreamed that 
night after night the boy lay on his cot just 
across the alcove, his hands clenched till the nails 
bit into the flesh, his teeth gritted together to keep 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 171 


back the sobs that tore at his throat, while his 
eyes drearily watched the walls of his room whiten 
with the coming dawn. 

In church on Sunday when he saw that panel 
on the wall where the name of Benedict Arnold 
is erased, leaving only the date of his birth and 
death to testify to the traitor’s memory, Winthrop 
shivered, for he realized that if Arnold’s name 
was erased from the tablet for his attempt to be- 
tray West Point into the hands of the enemy, so 
men were “ cut ” by the Corps for attempting to 
lower the high ideals bequeathed to the Academy 
by those very heroes, whose splendid records 
illumine for all time the pages of American history. 

In the summer Winthrop had regarded the 
monuments and captured flags, the cannon sur- 
rendered by the English at Saratoga, and the guns 
that had been taken in the Mexican War as 
relics of great historic interest. Now he recognized 
them as an ever present incentive and stimulus 
to noble deeds, on a par with those historic names 
panelled on the walls of the chapel, names that 
have helped make the Corps of cadets what it is. 
For as often happens with a great sorrow or grief 
or disappointment, Winthrop’s eyes were sud- 
denly opened to the true meaning of the life around 


172 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


him, and as he realized how near he had come 
to being dishonourably discharged from the 
Military Academy, he awoke to the fact that the 
career of a soldier is most desirable, and wondered 
how he could ever have acted so badly in plebe 
camp. 

It must be admitted that Faulkner was very 
indignant at the finding of the court, and that he 
looked upon Winthrop as an unmitigated liar, 
not fit to associate with cadets and gentlemen. 

“ I don’t see how anybody could have been 
taken in by such rot,” he fumed one day to Graham 
of the third class. “ As if I didn’t recognize swear- 
ing when I heard it, and then to compound his 
felony by making a false official statement about 
it.” 

“ But perhaps you were mistaken, old man,” 
Graham had interposed, “ for according to Con- 
nelly, you know, Winthrop told an awfully straight 
story on the witness stand, and no amount of cross 
examination could shake him. In fact, Connelly 
says that Winthrop explains so well what he said 
to you that he — Connelly, I mean — is willing 
to admit that he might have made a mistake.” 

“ Connelly always was a weather vane,” Faulk- 
ner growled, “ veering with the slightest change of 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 173 


wind. Not that I doubt for a moment but that 
he’s perfectly honest in what he says, while Win- 
throp — well, Winthrop was simply lying, that’s 
all.” 

“ But why shouldn’t you give poor Winthrop 
the benefit of the doubt as well as Connelly? ” 
ventured Graham. 

“ Because there’s no doubt in Winthrop’s case, 
Graham. I stood as near him as I am to you 
now, and considering that he made the remark 
not once but twice, I ought to know what he said. 
Those other men know, too, Bobby, but are afraid 
to trust the evidence of their senses because 
the coward told so good a lie under oath that they 
can’t believe it’s false. Just call on Riggs of his 
own class, and see what he has to say about it.” 

“ Yes, but Riggs was farther away than were 
some of the others whose testimony was thrown 
out at the court-martial,” objected Graham. 

Faulkner snorted contemptuously. 

“ Just call on Riggs anyway. He knows the 
truth as \tfell as Burges of Maine or that red-headed 
youngster from Idaho, and classmates though 
they are, they have all three cut Winthrop ever 
since the court-martial.” 

14 But his room-mate stands by him,” persisted 


174 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Graham, “ and he’s one of the finest fellows, not 
only in his class, but in the Corps.” 

“Yes,” answered Faulkner, “ Jack Stirling’s 
of too fine a nature to believe the man lied under 
oath unless it were proved against him. He didn’t 
hear Winthrop use profanity, and of course 
accepts his explanation that he was misunder- 
stood, and everything that Riggs and Burges 
and the red-headed boy say will not move him an 
iota. Fortunately for Stirling, the Corps is di- 
vided on the question or he’d be cut, too, for 
standing by a man who had shown himself un- 
worthy of a place in our ranks. But there’s Mr. 
Riggs crossing the area now. Let’s call him in 
and ask for his version of the affair.” 

A moment later Riggs stood before the two 
upper classmen, and on being asked by Faulkner 
if he had been within hearing distance on the night 
in question, he answered promptly: 

“ I was, sir.” 

“ And you think you heard exactly what passed 
between the sentinel and me? ” 

“ I did, sir.” 

Faulkner threw a triumphant glance in Gra- 
ham’s direction. 

“ Well, Mr. Riggs, I shall not expect you to 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 175 


remember exactly what was said, I mean not 
word for word, but can you give me some idea of 
the sentinel’s language? ” 

Riggs drew his comical face into a semblance 
of gravity. 

“ I should say, sir,” he began, “ that Mr. Win- 
throp’s conversation consisted for the most part 
of painful prognostications wherein subterranean 
igneous agency played a principal part.” 

The upper classmen bit their lips to keep from 
laughing outright, but Riggs’s “ B. J. ity ” had 
always been of such an amusing character that 
he was seldom punished for it, and now that 
the plebes were in barracks they were treated 
more as equals anyway, so all Faulkner said 
was: 

“ In other words, Mr. Riggs, you mean to say 
that Mr. Winthrop swore at me on post? ” 

“ I distinctly heard him consign you, sir, to a 
warmer climate even than this was at the time, 
designating the exact locality in the plainest 
possible terms.” 

“ And what makes you sure it was Mr. Win- 
throp who was using profanity, and not the upper 
classman? ” put in Graham quietly. 

“ Because, sir, I recognized Mr. Winthrop’s 


176 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


voice. He had a cold in his head at the time, 
and I could not have been mistaken in it.” 

Mr. Faulkner looked very grave. 

“ Have you presented this version of the affair 
to your class, Mr. Riggs? ” he inquired. 

“ I have, sir,” answered Riggs respectfully, 
“ but only Mr. Burges and Sorrel-Top — I beg 
your pardon, sir, Mr. Grosvenor Gronna of Mos- 
cow, Idaho — side with me, and they overheard 
the conversation just as I did. It happened that 
we were all awake for a half hour or more because 
of the racket on Mr. Winthrop’s post, what with 
the ‘ Grand Rounds,’ and a troop of cavalry on 
broom sticks, and one of the day boats, and a 
party of hostile Sioux all waiting to be challenged 
at the same time.” 

“Yes, yes, interrupted Faulkner tersely, “ but 
you’re sure you made the class understand that 
you heard Mr. Winthrop use profanity when act- 
ing as a sentinel on post? ” 

“Yes, sir, but you see, sir, Mr. Stirling is stand- 
ing by his room-mate.” 

“So I heard,” replied Faulkner, “ and Mr. 
Stirling has a tremendous influence over the class, 
I believe? ” 

“ Yes, sir, he’s one of the finest fellows in it, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 177 


and nothing will persuade him that his room-mate 
made a false official statement or lied under oath. 
He says Winthrop — Mr. Winthrop, sir, — is as 
honest as the day is long, which may be so on the 
shortest day of the year, sir.” 

“ Then you are perfectly convinced that Mr. 
Winthrop did not act as a cadet and gentleman 
either in his explanation to the Superintendent, 
or in the court-martial that followed the ex- 
planation? ” 

“ I think Mr. Winthrop lied deliberately and 
with intention to deceive,” returned Riggs with 
tautological earnestness. 

Mr. Faulkner exchanged glances with Mr. Graham 
of the third class. Then he turned to the plebe. 

“ Of course you understand, Mr. Riggs, that 
feeling as you do in this matter you ought not to 
associate with Mr. Winthrop? ” 

Riggs’ eyes blazed. 

“ Associate with him! ” he echoed. “ Why, I 
wouldn’t even fight him, sir, when he challenged me 
the other day. He’s beneath contempt, and I’m 
sure it’s only a matter of time before his inability 
to tell the truth will get him into trouble again.” 

“ Well, next time,” interposed Faulkner, “ the 
Corps won’t wait to have him court-martialled. 
It will drum him out! ” 


CHAPTER TWELVE 

Once established in barracks, the plebes were 
allowed for the first time in nearly three long 
months to carry their hands naturally and dis- 
continue the exaggerated brace which had been 
their portion for the summer. In addition to this 
privilege, they were allowed from then on to lean 
back in their chairs in the Mess Hall, nor were 
they longer compelled to keep their eyes con- 
stantly on their plates while eating. 

As about twenty-five candidates entered in 
September that year, the cadet officers found 
another awkward squad on their hands, and also 
had to report many plebes for hazing their new 
classmates, a “ Sep ” being a great temptation to 
a plebe, whose favourite amusement on Saturday 
night was to make the newcomers swim in the 
alcoves, stand up in a row on the mantel, and de- 
claim, sing, or generally act the monkey. 

Before the battalion had been away from camp 

a week, eight plebes were in arrest for hazing 
178 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 


179 


“ Seps,” but as the hazirig was light they were let 
off with extra tours on the area, and every Satur- 
day afternoon in full military feather they 
marched back and forth, in company with other 
miscreants to the unsung music of : 

“ My country, ’tis for thee 
I tread the are’-e-e ! ” 

As one might have surmised, the president 
of the Anti-Hazing Society was one of the first 
men caught “ deviling ” new cadets, while most 
of the fourth class proved very skilful in turning 
their own experiences to account, for the yearlings 
never bothered the “ Seps,” that being left for the 
men who entered in June; and as the class settled 
down to good, hard studying, even that slight 
hazing ceased, though in the drills the awkward- 
ness of the newcomers furnished no end of amuse- 
ment to the veterans of three months 1 standing. 

In addition to their military carriage, rugged 
health, and efficiency in the manual of arms, 
the men entering in June had learned to obey 
promptly and without question. They knew 
well the necessity of bridling the tongue that 
would outstrip the judgment, and holding in 
check the sophomoric repartee to a sharply spoken 
order. In other words, complete subordination 


180 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


was theirs, that A B C of a soldier’s education 
as taught in the primary course of plebe camp, 
and not a man among them but was better set-up 
morally and physically than when he came to 
West Point. 

Also about that time the plebe class had im- 
bibed enough West Point jargon to make their 
letters home almost unintelligible, Gronna one 
day rushing in on a group of cronies to read aloud 
a short note from his very dignified father. It 
began with a curt : 

“ Will you kindly translate the enclosed re- 
marks from your last letter home? As nobody 
here is conversant with the dead language evi- 
dently taught at the Military Academy, we are 
unable to ascertain what you are talking about. 
For example, at the bottom of the second page 
you say ‘ I fessed cold in Math last week but 
maxed it clean in English.’ Then farther on, 
you again lapse into the unknown tongue with the 
following : 

“ ‘I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that I rag 
regardless at drill now, and might bone chevrons 
for yearling camp if I hadn’t been hived by the 
tac of our div on Saturday night, running it after 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 181 


taps which, of course, puts me on the area for 
extras, and I must bone demerits to keep from 
being found. But even if I succeeded in getting 
chevrons I’d probably be busted at the first 
formation, so I’ll try to content myself with the 
rear rank, and let some other fellow do the brac- 
ing.’ 

“ ‘ That you begin this rather alarming statement 
by remarking you are sure I shall be glad to hear 
whatever follows is somewhat reassuring, but at 
your earliest convenience I should be very glad, 
and I must admit, somewhat relieved, to know 
what it is all about.” 

And nearly every plebe present had to acknowl- 
edge a similar letter to his own account from 
home people, not proficient in the parlance of the 
Point. 

By the first of October, in place of battalion 
drill, artillery drills commenced, and the familiar 
commands of “Action rear ” and “ By the num- 
bers, load ” were their portion every afternoon, 
the fourth class going to Artillery Park, the year- 
lings tearing up and down the cavalry plain at 
light battery drill, and the second class firing the 
heavy coast cannon, members of the first class 


182 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


commanding at all these drills, in addition to their 
work in pontoon bridge building. 

Often when the artillery was in full blast one 
could realize pretty well what war sounds and 
looks like, the thunder of the heavy coast guns, the 
rapid discharge of cannon at light battery drill, 
the rush of horses and the sound of the bugle, all 
conspiring to an effect very martial in character, 
this being heightened by the flags of the signal 
corps waving from one mountain top to another. 

As the weather became disagreeable the numer- 
ous military exercises dwindled to one artillery 
drill a day and two parades a week, while on the 
fifteenth of November the drills stopped until the 
following March, the parades continuing until 
the first snow of the season, which that year held 
off an unconscionable time, to the huge disgust 
of the battalion. 

Meanwhile the academic work went on unrelent- 
ingly, the idea of competition being carried out 
to the fullest extent by arranging cadets in sec- 
tions, according to their merit. Starting out in 
alphabetical order, the class found itself on the 
first Saturday’s transfer very much mixed, some 
of the A’s and B’s tumbling from the first section 
to the “ Immortals,” either to fail unconditionally 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 183 


at the approaching January examination, or else, 
week by week, to work themselves up again to 
at least a safe place in class standing; while 
several men, alphabetically at the foot of the class, 
speedily found themselves in the first section and 
stayed there throughout the year. 

Although the studies were seemingly few for the 
plebes, as until January they had only Algebra 
and Rhetoric with weekly lectures on Ethics, still 
the lessons were very long, and when a man went 
to the board he not only recited but discussed the 
topic given, in all its bearings and relations. 
Nor were the sections so large but that every 
man had a chance to recite every day, most of 
the instructors being abnormally thorough in 
their methods. 

“ Specking ” a lesson, or committing it to 
memory word for word, was never encouraged at 
West Point, and one of the first section men who 
had been brought up under that obsolete method 
was laughingly referred to by the rest of the class 
as “a comma finder.” Indeed, many were 
taught for the first time in their lives how to study, 
and several ambitious fellows, who had always 
ranked one or two in other schools or colleges, 
felt well content did they attain but a medium 


184 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


standing at West Point, considering the number 
of bright, hard working classmates in the lower 
sections. 

Also they soon realized that of the hundred 
young men in the fight for class standing less than 
sixty would graduate, as a possible two-thirds 
were apt to be dropped from the lower end of the 
class at the many examinations between plebe 
September and the June of graduation. A few 
weeks’ bad work, an unlucky slip of memory, or 
several days in the hospital insuring failure for 
a bright man, the chance of a dullard getting 
through, even under happier auspices, being very 
small indeed. 

Unlike most other schools and colleges there was 
no snivelling excuse accepted at West Point for 
a badly prepared lesson on the score of illness, or 
lack of time for study, or failure to take down the 
lesson correctly. Either a man made a good 
recitation or a poor one, and he was marked 
accordingly. Every Saturday afternoon these 
marks were posted in the hall of the Headquarters 
Building that the cadets might note their relative 
standing, or in the event of any one receiving a 
mark which he considered unfair, it gave him 
the right of appeal to a higher authority than the 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 185 


instructor, this in turn making the instructor 
most vigilant in his record of the week’s work. 

Although “ Vegetation was got off the dryest 
twigs of boys under the frostiest circumstances,” 
West Point never produced “ mental green peas — 
at Christmas and intellectual asparagus all the 
year round.” Neither were “ mathematical goose- 
berries — common at untimely seasons,” for boys 
brought up under the Dr. Blimmer-Grandgrind- 
M’Choakumchild system soon found the lessons 
at the Military Academy too long and too difficult 
to be crammed by rote, and if they had any brains 
left after that parrot-like process of assimilating 
knowledge, happily more common in that day 
than this, they learned within a few weeks to 
recite their lessons not in the author’s words, 
but in their own. 

“ Very good, sir,” an instructor would say after 
a cadet had laboriously read down a page with his 
mental eye, “ a rather remarkable feat of memory, 
sir, but at West Point we care very little for what 
the author thinks on a given subject. We want 
to know what you think, and in your own words, 
sir! ” 

Whereupon a plebe, brought up under the old 
method, would have to admit that he hadn’t 


186 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


thought anything at all on the subject, and would 
accordingly be marked very low, despite the fact 
that he had recited a page or more almost 
verbatim. 

In the mathematical department the plebe 
was even harder pressed with original problems, 
some of these having nothing whatever to do with 
the lesson of the day, and perhaps dating back 
a week or more to some principle already forgotten 
by the Dr. Blimmer graduate. 

To be sure, on its military side West Point 
made a chap “ bear to pattern somehow or 
other ,' 9 and at drills and parade the cadets 
looked as if<^iey “ had been lately turned at the 
same time in the same factory, on the same 
principle, like so many piano legs." But mentally, 
at least, they worked from within outward there, 
attempting no surface polish before the planing 
had been accomplished, while the idea of com- 
munity was so bred in the bone that there was 
little or nothing heard in the Corps of seclusion 
and exclusion. 

In those old days it must be confessed that the 
close application to x y and z monopolized any 
latent literary talent at the institution, while 
foot-ball was an unknown quantity, and base- 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 187 


ball played so seldom that the average score 
might be summed up briefly as a broken nose 
on one side to a dislocated thumb on the other. 
Even the Dialectic Society, given a fresh lease of 
life by every yearling class, soon fell a victim to 
its members’ lack of time, and went from bad to 
worse until restored to a semblance of health 
by the succeeding class. 

Aside from drills and parades, the only approach 
to athletics was the gymnastic work under Old 
Grizzly, this being little more than the setting up 
exercises described in the School for the Soldier; 
while on alternate days the fourth classmen were 
instructed in fencing by an elderly Spaniard, this 
gentleman bearing the reputation of having been 
a duel fighter in his youth, which of course en- 
deared him to the heart of every plebe, and made 
it a great honour to cross swords with so dis- 
tinguished an adversary. 

With the exception of a few hours’ release from 
quarters on Saturday afternoon, there was not a 
moment throughout the week that an ambitious 
man could call his own, the brief respite after 
breakfast, dinner, and supper each day being 
devoted to one’s books, except in the case of a 
bright fellow like Riggs, whose only ambition was 


188 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


to graduate, not to stand high, and who studied 
just well enough to keep from being found de- 
ficient. 

Some of the “ digs,” like Raymond and Bayard 
and Burges of Maine, even “ cut ” their Saturday 
afternoon privileges to study; though as a rule 
most of the fourth class, in little groups of two 
and three and four, made a dash for Flirtation 
Walk or Trophy Point on being dismissed from 
ranks after their midday dinner, while the re- 
mainder of the class spent the time in walking 
extra tours on the area, their offences ranging 
from “ unauthorized light in quarters and bedding 
over window for improper purposes after Taps ” 
to the more serious indiscretion of having been 
“ hived ” while hazing new cadets or making 
unauthorized visits after “ Call to quarters.” 

Often, too, the Saturday privileges would be 
curtailed by the appearance on the post of some 
distinguished visitor or other, the thunder of 
salutes causing the cadets to grumble not a little, 
for it always meant a review, which in addition 
to their other work was an exhausting thing, 
the men not only having to stand a long time in 
ranks, but obliged as well to march and double 
time for the distinguished guest, who, unless he 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 189 


happened to be a West Pointer himself, little 
dreamed how unwelcome he was. 

Up to January the history of one academic 
week was just like that of the week preceding it, 
a round of hard study, some heart-burnings over 
low grades, and on Saturday afternoon a few 
hours’ recreation, if one’s standing in discipline 
allowed and he felt he could spare the time from 
his studies. It was a humdrum life, at the best, 
and as the hills around the post lost their gay 
colours and the wintry days set in with nothing 
to break their monotony, the hard mental work 
was a blessing in disguise, though to most plebes 
those first four months in barracks might have 
been as many years. 

As for Christmas, it came so near the dreaded 
January examinations that every one was anxious 
over the approaching struggle, and in the fourth 
class, especially, resignations came thick and fast, 
those who were afraid of failing taking this method 
of escape. 

In reviewing preparatory to examination, men 
like Stirling and Raymond made some of their 
best grades, and right at the time when good 
grades counted most, for while they were some- 
what slow in picking up a subject, they were 


190 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


equally slow in forgetting it. Notwithstanding 
which, Raymond, who was inclined to borrow 
trouble at a usurious rate of interest, worried night 
and day, not so much for fear of being found 
deficient at the January examinations, as because 
he was sure his nervousness and excitability 
would prevent his making a good recitation before 
the Academic Board. 

The last thing Raymond thought of, as he 
drifted to sleep that stormy Christmas Eve, was 
the impending ordeal, and even the delight of 
waking up next morning to find the hated parade 
ground covered with snow was not enough to dis- 
pel his fears. On the return from chapel he was 
told that a box from home awaited him in the 
Treasurer’s office. This made him forget his blues 
somewhat, until reminded by his room-mate 
Lampton that according to regulations he could 
not have the box in barracks. 

“ Why don’t you tackle the Ogre about it? ” 
suggested the resourceful Riggs, referring to the 
quartermaster, who was dubbed the Ogre by 
reason of a hard-featured face and black scowling 
brows, combined with a manner as ugly as his 
looks. 

Lampton laughed disagreeably. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 191 


“ Fancy Mizzoo in the role of giant killer,” he 
mocked. 

Raymond, who up to that moment would almost 
as soon have faced the Academic Board as Major 
Cramer, got to his feet with alacrity. 

“ What military bean stalk shall I climb to 
reach the Ogre? ” he asked, ignoring Lampton 
except in so far as his allusion to the bean stalk 
went. 

Riggs explained, and a few minutes later 
Mizzoo was in the awful Presence and would 
not have been surprised to find the official walls 
decorated with raw heads and bloody bones, 
while if the Ogre had started in by saying “ Fee 
faw fi fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman,” 
it could not have been a bit worse than the way 
he snapped Raymond up about the size of the 
box from home. 

'‘Christmas box!” he snarled, “Christmas 
box! Why, it’s big enough for officers’ quarters, 
Mr. — er — what did you say your name was? ” 
and he scowled fiercely at the wall behind Mizzoo. 

The boy answered the question quietly enough, 
though he resented the major’s peremptory 
manner. 

“ Raymond, eh? ” grunted the officer. “ What’s 


192 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


that ? From Missouri ? One of the Boone County 
Raymonds ? You don ’ t say so ? ” Then he turn ed 
his eyes on Mizzoo for the first time, and looked 
him over from head to foot in a way that would 
have embarrassed any one not hardened by a 
course of plebe camp. At last, more gruffly 
than ever, he blurted out : 

“ Was your mother a Miss Breckenridge of 
Kentucky? Sara Breckenridge? ” 

Raymond nodded, so bewildered as to forget 
his military manners, but the quartermaster, 
his eyes still on Raymond’s face, seemed to forget 
them too, for he went on shortly : 

“You’re very like your mother as I last saw her, 
Mr. Raymond, very like indeed! ” and in answer 
to the question in Raymond’s eyes: “I knew 
her when the family moved out to Missouri 
in the fifties. She — your mother, I mean — 
married soon after and I — well, I went away 
about that time and have never been back since.” 

Raymond looked his surprise, but the major 
was staring out of the window unseeingly, the 
ugly frown between his eyes intensified, the deep 
lines from nose to chin seeming to hold his well 
shaped mouth in a parenthesis. Suddenly he 
threw back his shaggy head. 



HE TURNED HIS EYES ON MIZZOO FOR THE FIRST TIME.” 



































f 














































































AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 193 


“ About that Christmas box,” he began 
abruptly, “ I suppose I’ll have to let you have it 
in barracks, seeing that it arrived on Christmas 
morning, and that as a fourth classman you didn’t 
know any better than to let them send it. But 
remember, it would be allowed at no other time; 
and, moreover, if you live through eating all the 
trash that’s in there, and happen not to be found 
deficient before another Christmas, please let 
your family know that we’re not running a young 
ladies’ seminary at the Point, and that we don’t 
approve of caramels and pickles in barracks.” 

Mizzoo winced at the unexpected sarcasm, and 
bit his lip to keep back the retort trembling there. 
The major noticed his expression, and smiled not 
unkindly. Then, as if from a sudden impulse, 
he got to his feet : 

“ A merry Christmas to you, boy,” he mumbled 
awkwardly. “ I know so far it’s been a lonely one, 
for a plebe at West Point isn’t apt to hear even 
an echo of the herald angels’ song. In fact, I 
don’t think you’ll find Christmas very enlivening 
during any of your four holidays here. I didn’t, 
and my people were much like your own, I reckon 
— southern extraction, small village, big family 
connection, and the rest of it ! Home ties are pretty 


194 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


strong with that sort, and — and I almost died of 
loneliness my first year at the Academy.” 

Raymond swallowed hard, but before he could 
make an appropriate rejoinder the major had 
pushed back his chair, and in his old rough 
manner was issuing instructions about the red 
tape to be gone through with to get the box into 
barracks, and finally, in the same gruff way, he 
held out his hand to the boy. 

“ Although I’m an old bachelor with no young 
people in the house,” he said, “ I’d be pleased to 
have you take tea with me the first Saturday 
evening after examinations. That is, if it wouldn’t 
bore you to come and cheer up a lonely old man. 
What’s that? You’d be glad to come? Well — 
well, I’d be glad to have you, boy,” and Raymond 
found himself outside the Headquarters Building, 
his hand still tingling from the major’s hearty 
grasp. 

For a moment he stood there, dazed, bewildered. 
Was it possible the dreaded Ogre of the Corps 
was but a lonely old man, after all, and one, 
moreover, who had known his mother in her girl- 
hood? Was it really true the Ogre had invited him 
to tea? Raymond kindled at the thought of hav- 
ing a friend on the post, even distantly acquainted 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 195 


with his family, but felt a sudden contraction of 
his throat as he remembered the major’s face 
staring unseeingly out of the window. He hadn’t 
looked like an Ogre then. 

Walking slowly across the area, his thoughts 
still with the major, Raymond was startled by a 
hearty clap on the back. 

“ Hello, Mizzoo,” came Stirling’s cheery voice. 
“Wouldn’t the Ogre let you have the grub? No 
wonder you look cast down. What’s that? You 
can have it? Want some one to give you a lift 
on the box? Well, here’s some one, old fellow. 
Just wait a jiffy till I get a permit from the officer 
in charge and we’ll have it in barracks quicker 
than a wink.” 

Returning with their prize from the Treasurer’s 
office to the fourth floor of the eighth division, the 
boys were greeted with uproarious delight. 

“ How did you get a permit to have it in quar- 
ters? ” they all clamoured excitedly. “ How 
did you work the Ogre, Mizzoo? ” 

From Raymond’s facetious account of the 
interview, one would have inferred that Major 
Cramer had been worsted in an argument that 
resulted in his thanking Mizzoo for the oppor- 
tunity of serving him even in so small a matter, 


196 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


and telling him that in the future he must call on 
his department for anything that would add to 
the happiness and welfare of the Corps. 

“ Mizzoo’s improving,” laughed Riggs in Jack’s 
ear. 

“ Mizzoo’s all right! ” answered Jack aloud, and 
Raymond, overhearing him, tried not to show how 
pleased he was at the army boy’s commendation. 

As the officer in charge had stipulated that no 
provisions of any kind would be allowed in 
quarters next day, Raymond issued invitations 
for a feast to take place that evening after “ Taps.” 
So when all lights were supposed to be out, and 
every one was presumably in bed, the twelve 
plebes of that division assembled in Raymond’s 
room, and with windows darkened by army 
blankets pinned over them, they proceeded to 
enjoy the flesh-pots of Missouri, though after 
their elaborate Christmas dinner in the Mess Hall 
it is a wonder they could have eaten another 
mouthful. 

About midnight, Mizzoo, being full of cake and 
gratitude, proposed a toast to the absent ones, and 
as the feast was strictly temperate in character 
they ate to the health of the senders, and wished 
the old Ogre every joy for allowing them to have 
the box in barracks. 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN 


The first week in January was an eventful one 
for the plebe class, those in the lower sections 
feeling pretty blue with the prospect of failure 
ahead of them, while those in the upper sections 
were sick with anxiety for some friend whose 
fate hung in the balance. To every one’s surprise, 
poor Schuyler Van Norsdell was one of the eight- 
een who failed to pass, and no one was more 
surprised than Schuyler himself, sure as he was of 
his own ability, and gaily confident that the 
authorities would never think of “ finding ” 
a man in the fourth section. Hard working 
Burges of Maine also failed, as did little Sampson 
of Tennessee, who had developed more in pro- 
portion during his six months at the Academy 
then had any one else in the class, though his lack 
of early training made it impossible for him to 
keep up with the academic work. 

For over a week those in doubt lived a miser- 
able existence, but on January eleventh the 
197 


198 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


announcement was made, and the eighteen un- 
fortunates, dressed in civilian clothes, were 
telling their classmates “ good bye,” some of them 
breaking down completely on seeing the am- 
bition of years shattered. Within twenty-four 
hours work began again, and no one would have 
realized from the placid look of the water that so 
many men had gone under. 

There were other surprises at that January 
examination, for young Winthrop, who had been 
making phenomenally low grades since Septem- 
ber, “ maxed it cold ” on a very difficult subject 
in Algebra, while Stirling and Raymond gained 
several files on their previous standing, in the 
redivision of sections finding themselves in the 
fourth and fifth, respectively. Gronna, despite 
the fact that the course was a review for him, 
lost three sections in Mathematics and two in 
French; lazy brilliant Riggs held his own; and 
poor old Bayard, for all his hard work, went down 
to the “ Immortals,” standing ninety-nine in a 
class of a hundred and two. 

The night the new books were drawn, 
Raymond piled them up in the centre of the 
table. 

“ Isn’t it discouraging to think we’ll have to go 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 199 


through them all, not only once but several 
times before June? ” he sighed. 

Lamp ton upset the pile with a jerk of his elbow. 

“The first lesson you should learn, Mizzoo, 
is cheerfulness/’ he declared, “ and they ought 
to have a course on ‘ How to See Clearly ’ as well 
as ‘ How to Write Clearly ’ for such an old Jere- 
miah as you. Sufficient unto the day is the lesson 
thereof, my friend, and as this Plane Geometry 
is anything but plain to me I must beg to be ex- 
cused from further conversation,” and the boy 
buried his curly head in the book before him. 

Raymond, stifling another sigh, picked up his 
French grammar, realizing with a dull presenti- 
ment what it was going to cost him in grades, for 
like several of the class he had never studied 
French before, and found the pronunciation a 
great stumbling block to his progress. Before 
he was a quarter through the lesson, his room- 
mate had tossed both his Geometry and French 
aside and was deep in a novel he kept concealed 
with his tobacco up the chimney. 

“ Taps ” came and still Raymond had not even 
opened his Geometry, so after inspection a 
blanket was hung over the window, and “ lights 
were ruri ” at the risk of demerits, while the boy 


200 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


pored over his books, a wet towel around his head 
to keep him awake, for exhausted after the hard 
day’s work he could scarcely hold his eyes open, 
especially with Lampton sleeping peacefully near 
at hand. 

And that was but the beginning of a winter of 
incessant toil, day and night, even during release 
from quarters, his reward being a fair grade in 
Mathematics, an excellent one in English, and a 
transfer down in French week after week; while 
his room-mate, without the least effort, ranked 
the first section in everything. 

On the other side of the hall, Jack Stirling 
struggled as hard with Mathematics as Raymond 
struggled with French, for the length of lessons 
and the number of problems given out each day 
would have made the average scholar throw down 
his books in despair. As a rule there would be 
from eighteen to twenty pages of solid “ Math ” 
to learn perfectly, and on top of that twenty-five 
problems, so that most of the class formed the 
habit of “ running lights ” and studying after 
“ Taps,” thus standing an excellent chance for 
confinements or demerits. 

One Saturday evening on release from quarters, 
Jack knocked at Raymond’s door and receiving 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 201 


no reply, he pushed it open to discover Raymond 
lying half way across the table, his head buried in 
his arms, the picture of despair. 

Shocked at discovering his neighbour in mental 
undress, as it were, for the Missourian was evi- 
dently indulging in a fit of the blues, Jack started 
to tiptoe away, and then, thinking better of it, 
he went boldly into the room, and with a hearty 
word of greeting put a hand on his friend’s 
shoulder. 

Still Raymond did not move, and of a sudden 
Stirling realized the boy had fainted. Quickly 
lowering him to the floor, he threw open the 
window and was about to call for help, when Ray- 
mond staggered to his feet, white and dazed. 

“ Reckon I must have fallen asleep,” he stam- 
mered, but discovering that his face was wet with 
a generous sprinkling of water, he grinned a little 
sheepishly. 

“ Fainted, did I? ” he asked. “ Well, I’m glad 
it was you that found me, Jack, and not Lampton. 
He’d have blabbed about it. What’s the matter? 
Oh, just worn out, I reckon, and a bit discouraged, 
too, for it’s pretty hard after a week’s struggle 
to be confronted by such awfully low marks.” 

Jack looked puzzled. 


202 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ I thought you were quite a ‘ fiend ’ at ‘ Math,* 
Raymond, and as for French, with Lampton in the 
first section, and this year’s course a review for him 
anyway, he ought to be able to help you through 
at little or no expense to himself.” 

Raymond flushed uneasily. 

“ I — I’m such a ‘ goat ’ that I suppose Lamp- 
ton doesn’t want to be bothered,” he stammered. 

“ But it’s never a bother to help a classmate,” 
blazed Jack, “ and he’s got time to bum, too. 
What does he do with it? ” 

“ Bums it, I reckon,” laughed Raymond un- 
willingly, pointing to a box of Egyptian cigarettes 
which the careless Lampton had failed to put 
away. “And then, too, he reads a lot, and — 
and sleeps some.” 

“Smokes — sleeps — reads, when his room- 
mate needs help!” fumed Jack, and started to 
say something very uncomplimentary about the 
absent Lampton, but instead turned on Raymond 
almost fiercely. 

“ Mizzoo, you shocking old * dig,’ ” he began, 
“ why didn’t you tell me how things were with 
you? Who gave you permission to fall off in 
weight and faint around barracks as if it were a 
girls’ boarding school? Why, man alive, I could 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 203 


have helped you, even I, who never expect to do 
much better than hold my own about the middle 
of the class. French happens to come easy to me, 
though, from speaking greaser Spanish when a 
boy in the West, and I’m going up in it every 
week, so if you’ll let me give you a lift now and 
then and we’ll see what we shall see.” 

Raymond flashed a grateful look into Jack’s 
animated face. 

“ Oh, for Heaven’s sake don’t thank me, 
Mizzoo,” he protested. “ I’ve no doubt you’ll 
have a chance to pay me back with interest when 
we get into ‘Ana.lyt’ in April, for I’m awfully 
‘ gross ’ in ‘ Math,’ and only hold my own by 
1 boning * hard. But I make it a rule to sacrifice 
some study for exercise in the gym, or this close 
confinement would make me feel out of sorts.” 

“ But I haven’t time for exercise,” pleaded 
Raymond. “ Why, I even cut meals to study. 
Though, to tell the truth, I’ve so little appetite 
it’s not much of a deprivation.” 

Jack examined his friend keenly and noticed 
with some little apprehension how thin and white 
he had grown. “ Do you smoke? ” he asked 
suddenly. “No? I thought not. Your only 
dissipation seems to be work, but you’ve got to 


204 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


cut down on that as you would on any other 
excess, Raymond, or you’ll never pull through 
the course. As your future coach, I recommend 
in the first place that you put away all your books 
to-night and come down with me to Riggs’s room. 
They’re having a jollification there, that will 
help clear your brain, and to-morrow you and I 
will tackle those ungs and ongs together, and I’m 
sure you’ll win out in the section room on Monday! 

Raymond looked positively frightened at the 
idea of wasting a whole evening, but Jack was 
firm. 

“You can’t run lights till morning, stay away 
from meals to study, never take advantage of 
Saturday release from quarters, and expect to be 
anything but dull in your studies, Mizzoo. As 
for losing a section or so in French, you might as 
well make up your mind to that first as last, for 
there are so many yet below you who have studied 
it before and must come up, that the inexperi- 
enced Frenchmen are bound to go down. But if 
you let me work with you an hour or so a day, 
I’ll guarantee you’ll never reach the ‘ Immor- 
tals.’ Now I don’t pretend to know anything at 
all about ‘ Math,’ but I coached Winthrop so 
that — ” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 205 


Jack stopped suddenly and turned very red. 

lt You coached Winthrop!” echoed Raymond 
incredulously. “ Why, Sorrel-top Gronna said 
he did magnificently at the examination. In fact, 
he and some of the other men of the section seemed 
to think that Winthrop couldn’t have made a 
recitation like that without having the principal 
formula to refer to. But I suppose it’s simply 
a case of the old saying give a dog a bad name 
and you might as well hang him.” 

Jack was silent and Raymond, fearing he might 
have offended the man he cared for most at the 
Academy, went on more slowly : 

“ It almost looks, Jack, as if Riggs and Gronna 
and Burges had won the class over to their way 
of thinking about Winthrop’s conduct on guard 
last summer. I notice several other fellows have 
stopped speaking to him within the last few days.” 

“ Well, I'm speaking to him,” answered Jack 
stoutly. “ He told me on his word of honour that 
Faulkner was mistaken, besides swearing to it at 
the court-martial.” 

“ But Riggs and Sorrel-top and Burges say 
they heard him,” protested Raymond, who 
dearly loved an argument. 

Jack looked fierce. 


206 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ I know those men who say it honestly think 
they heard him, but surely Winthrop ought to 
know himself what he said. And then, too,, as you 
remember, he had an awful cold at the time and 
they might easily have been mistaken.” There 
was an appealing note in Jack’s voice, quite new 
to it, as he went on earnestly: “ Don’t you go 
back on us, Mizzoo. We both need your help.” 

Raymond thrust a hearty hand into Jack’s. 

“ I’d stand by any one you defended, old man, 
and though I didn’t like Winthrop a bit when he 
first came here, I’m beginning to think he’s a 
pretty decent sort of chap.” 

“ He’s one of the finest men I ever knew,” 
cried Jack, elated with Raymond’s praise, “ and 
next to you, Raymond, I like him better than any 
one in the Corps, not even excepting Riggs.” 

Raymond, who had not thought he stood so 
high in Stirling’s estimation, gulped a little, and 
then, in praise of Winthrop, he said: 

“ Did you know that Tom’s been helping 
Bayard in French since the first of the year? ” 

Jack’s eyes softened wonderfully. 

“ No, Mizzoo, he hasn’t said a word about it, 
though I could’nt help noticing he’d climbed down 
from his family tree since last summer, when he 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 207 


was actually indignant that such men as Bayard 
should be admitted to tKe Academy.” 

Raymond laughed. 

“ Dear old Chevalier! You know the story of 
his first recitation in French, don’t you? No? 
I thought it had gone the rounds before this. Well, 
it seems the poor duffer was in the hospital with 
that ulcerated tooth of his for several days, and 
when he came out his section had reached the con- 
jugation of the verb aimer . Of course old Bayard 
had been studying every available minute at the 
hospital, so when he was sent to the front board 
to write down the imperfect subjunctive of the 
verb ‘ That I might be loved,’ he put it down in 
his big school-boy hand quite correctly, ‘ Que 
je fusse aime — que tu fusses aime — qu ’ il, or, 
elle jut aime,' and so forth. 

“The instructor — it was Lucifer, Son of the 
morning, as I remember — looked gratified, and 
asked Bayard to. read it off to the class. So 
Bayard, without the slightest hesitation, took 
down the pointer and began, 4 Quee gee fussy 
amy — quee two fusses amy — quill or elly futt 
amy,’ and was very much offended when Lucifer 
stopped him on the plural of the verb with a 
choking plea to remember his pronunciation ; for 


208 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


according to Gronna, who was in the same section, 
you know, Bayard said he had pronounced it 
just as it was written and didn’t see how it could 
properly be pronounced any other way.” 

“ That’s on a par with little Sampson’s ex- 
ample of the sublime in Rhetoric,” laughed Jack. 
“ Don’t you remember the time he attempted 
to quote Caesar’s noble speech to the pilot who 
was afraid to put to sea in a storm, ‘ Why do you 
fear? You carry Caesar!’ ” 

“Oh, yes,” chuckled Raymond, “ and poor 
little Sampson, striking an attitude and in a voice 
trembling with emotion, solemnly declaimed: 
* What you ’fraid of anyhow? Ain’t you got 
Caesar along! ’ ” 

“ And that time he affirmed that Demosthenes 
was the greatest living orator? ” put in Jack 
with an explosion of mirth. 

“ And that other time he told the ‘ Math ’ in- 
structor that a straight line was a line that wasn’t 
crooked,” added Raymond. 

Jack doubled up at the remembrance and then 
went on more seriously: 

41 But what a brick the little chap turned out to 
be, Mizzoo, and how splendidly he came through 
plebe camp, for all his protests about acting as 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 209 


a ‘ body servant * to the. upper classmen. If his 
early education hadn’t been so hopelessly neg- 
lected, he’d have been one of the finest fellows 
in the Corps at graduation.” 

“ Well, he said he’d rather have come to West 
Point and failed at the January examinations 
than never have come at all,” declared Raymond. 

“ That was a manly thing to say,” approved 
Stirling, “ and only goes to show what the Acad- 
emy did for him.” 

A moment later the two friends, arm in arm, 
appeared at Riggs’s door. The host of the evening 
threw down the guitar on which he was accom- 
panying his guests in a melodious “ Benny Havens, 
Oh! ” and with a rapturous gleam of teeth and 
eyes welcomed the newcomers. 

“ So you’ve decided at last to give that hetero- 
geneous ganglionic aggregation you are pleased to 
call your brain a rest, eh? ” he flung good naturedly 
in Raymond’s direction, and to his room-mate, 
“ Here, Sorrel-top, bring forth the boodle. Our 
guests would fain refresh themselves.” 

Gronna, who was not a bit more red-headed 
than Riggs himself, obediently handed over a 
pitcher of lemonade, this being rather weak by 
reason of some water surreptitiously added to it 


210 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


on the arrival of the late guests, while Riggs passed 
them two generous slices of dried apple pie and 
a box marked “ Fine Bonbons ” which was empty, 
except for those sticky green and pink candies 
which are always left till the last. 

Then came more songs, and “ grinds/’ and 
general foolishness, till the drums and fifes 
sounding “ Tattoo ” sent them scampering up 
and down the iron stairs, the only reminder of 
the feast being some grease spots on the floor for 
which Riggs, as room orderly, would be held 
responsible at Sunday morning inspection. 

Half way up to the “ cock-loft,” as the fourth 
floor in barracks used to be called, Stirling and 
Raymond ran full tilt into Bayard coming down. 

“ Why didn’t you come to Riggs’ room to- 
night? ” asked Jack in passing. 

“I — I had another engagement,” explained 
Bayard lamely. 

Jack stopped short. 

“Were you with Winthrop? ” he insisted. 

Bayard, blushing furiously, nodded. 

“Was he coaching you in French? ” asked 
Jack. 

“ He told me not to tell you,” mumbled 
Bayard. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 211 


14 Why not? ” demanded Jack. 

Bayard hesitated. 

“ Well, he said something or other about never 
having done anything decent in his life unless 
he went about it with a brass band, and that this 
time he’d ‘ do good by stealth.’ ” 

“ ‘ And blush to find it fame,’ ” put in Ray- 
mond. 

Jack flashed him a grateful look, said good 
night to Bayard and walked down the hall to his 
own room where Winthrop was already preparing 
for bed. 

“ I’ve discovered all, Mr. Winthrop,” Jack 
began dramatically as he opened the door. “You 
can deceive me no longer, sir! ” 

Winthrop went suddenly very white and stag- 
gered into a near-by chair. 

Jack frowned heavily. 

“ I thought you had some writing to do this 
evening when you made me go down to Riggs’ 
jollification,” he accused his room-mate, “ and 
instead of that you staid up here to coach Bay- 
ard.” 

Winthrop moistened his dry lips and, after a 
scarcely perceptible hesitation, spoke: 

“ I did have some letters to write,” he began. 


212 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ They are stamped and sealed on the table 
there.” Then he broke down completely: “ Oh, 
Jack, you startled me so. I thought for a moment 
you, too, had gone back on me. Every day more 
fellows fail to speak, and it seems at times as if I 
couldn’t bear it.” 

Jack, all contrition, was at his side in an instant. 

“ You know I won’t go back on you, Winthrop,” 
he cried, “ that I haven’t doubted you for even a 
moment from the very first. Why, you couldn’t 
do anything to make me doubt you — ” 

But here he stopped, a slow colour flooding his 
face, for once since that unfortunate occurrence 
in camp Jack Stirling had doubted his room-mate, 
and the shame of it made his manner toward 
Winthrop more considerate than usual. And long 
after Winthrop was asleep, Jack lay there, his 
cheeks burning in the darkness at his own dis- 
loyalty towards a friend who trusted him as im- 
plicitly as did Tom Winthrop, and who was so in 
need of unquestioning good fellowship. 



CHAPTER FOURTEEN 


This disloyalty on the part of Jack Stirling 
dated back to the January examinations when, 
poor mathematician that he was, the army boy 
had come to a sudden standstill on a problem 
he was trying to work out for the edification of 
the Academic Board. 

In an abstracted way he noticed that Winthrop, 
who happened to be his neighbour, was at a stand- 
still, too, and glancing idly at Winthrop’s work, 
Jack saw at once that while substituting in an 
important formula, Winthrop had changed its 
value, a point Jack had dwelt on so much in re- 
viewing with his room-mate that he was surprised 
the boy should have forgotten it. But now he 
had his own scalp to think of, so, closing his eyes 
to insure better concentration of thought, he 
turned his head even more in Winthrop’s direction, 
and stood there waiting for the inspiration that 
should solve his problem. 

A second he waited, two seconds, perhaps, 
213 


214 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


when suddenly it came, and opening his eyes he 
turned to the board, but not before he had seen 
Winthrop, with a guilty start, push his cuff up 
his sleeve. 

Mechanically Stirling rubbed out the beginning 
of his work, and as mechanically put down his 
new conception of it. Then he stood there, 
wondering what he ought to do. 

If Winthrop were cheating at examination, he 
ought to be exposed ; but on the other hand how 
did Jack know he was cheating? Because a man 
happens to push up his cuff, need it necessarily 
have something written on it? Because Winthrop 
happened to rub out his previous work and start 
in again, this time making the chalk fly, would it 
insure his guilt? Was it not possible that Jack, 
in common with the rest of the class, was unduly 
suspicious of Winthrop since the court-martial? 
If Raymond or Riggs or Bayard had done the 
same thing, would he have jumped to the immedi- 
ate conclusion that they were cheating? 

Faster and faster flew Winthrop’s chalk, until 
at last it broke off and he had to take a fresh 
piece, Jack meanwhile standing there doing 
nothing with his own work, but sick at heart by 
reason of the miserable suspicions sweeping over 
him. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 215 


If Winthrop were guilty of cheating at exami- 
nations, he was also guilty of having sworn at the 
officer of the day his last night on guard; and if 
he had sworn at the officer of the day then Jack 
Stirling was at fault for shielding a man who 
should have been dismissed from the Academy. 

Again and again he put these hateful thoughts 
away from him as unworthy. Yet again and 
again that wave of suspicion swept over his head, 
leaving him breathless, gasping, weak. At last 
he quieted his clamouring conscience by a com- 
promise. He would not expose Winthrop before 
the Academic Board. He would wait until their 
return to barracks, and if an examination of the 
cuff proved Jack right, he would make Winthrop 
resign by a threat of reporting him to the authori- 
ties. 

Quieted somewhat by this resolve, Stirling 
finished his problem, scanned it carefully, drew 
on his white gloves and, pointer in hand, faced 
about to recite. But he was so wandering in his 
manner and so absent-minded in his replies to the 
Academic Board that the professor of Mathe- 
matics reprimanded him sharply for inattention, a 
circumstance that would have caused Jack untold 
mortification at any other time. 


216 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


* 

Now he went through it all as in a dream, and 
after being excused by the Board, dragged himself 
wearily up to his room, and sat down in the chair 
by the window, his head in his hands, his eyes 
closed. 

Presently he heard Winthrop bound up the steps 
three at a time. A vague hope stirred Jack’s 
breast, and he felt his breath come hard as he 
braced himself for whatever was to happen. 

“ Jack — Jack — ” called Winthrop gaily even 
before the door was closed, “ oh, Jack, old man, 
I made a bully recitation. Thanks to you, I 
4 maxed it clean,’ Jack, ‘ maxed it clean.’ I can 
never thank you enough, never! ” and Winthrop 
smiled down on his room-mate, such joy and grati- 
tude in his usually sombre face that Jack was at 
once disarmed, and felt the question he had been 
about to ask was as ungenerous as it was unjust. 
If Winthrop ’s light-heartedness had not of itself 
restored Jack’s faith, his avowal that he owed his 
good recitation to his room-mate’s coaching 
would have quieted suspicion, and Jack felt a 
little shudder of self-abhorrence as he realized 
how near he had come to wounding this man 
to the death. 

“ The professor complimented me,” Winthrop 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 217 


went on happily. “And I — oh, Jack, I did so 
want to tell him that I owed it all to you. I 
longed to speak right out and say what you had 
done for me, not only in this matter but in the 
other,” and the brown eyes looking into Jack’s 
penitent blue ones clouded over suddenly with 
wordless gratitude, though a moment later he 
gave Stirling a good-natured punch in the ribs to 
cover up his embarassment at having been a 
“ softy.” 

With a queer little laugh, Jack got to his feet, 
and threw an arm around Winthrop’s shoulder. 
It was the first time he had ever been the least 
demonstrative with his room-mate, and Winthrop 
accepted it gladly, little realizing that Jack’s 
sudden friendship was bom of remorse, for though 
Stirling had defended his room-mate against the 
whole Corps he had never really liked him until 
that moment. 

Standing there by the window, arm in arm, and 
looking out over the parade ground white with 
snow, each boy determined in his own way to 
prove himself worthy of the comradeship that 
had broken through the crust of their former 
reserve like a daring young crocus braving the 
winter’s snow. 


218 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Honest as he was in everything, Stirling de- 
termined then and there to make a clean breast 
of his unworthy suspicions, but when he tried 
to do so "he saw that the friendship between him- 
self and Winthrop was too young for such an un- 
pleasant revelation. So with a certain self-loath- 
ing at his own deception he gave himself up to 
the joy of the moment. 

But days merged into weeks, and weeks into 
months, and still Jack had not spoken, partly 
because he dreaded wounding his friend, made 
over-sensitive by the fact that one by one the class 
had “ cut ” him, showing plainly by their manner 
that he was not a welcome addition to any of 
their plebe gatherings on Saturday night; and 
partly because he could not bear to stand a self- 
confessed traitor in Winthrop’s eyes. 

Out of all the class, Raymond and Bayard were 
the only ones who ever came in a friendly way to 
that tabooed room in the cock-loft, unless it were 
known that Winthrop was absent when they 
flocked there by the dozen, for in spite of Stirling’s 
friendship for Winthrop, he w T as the most popular 
man in the class. 

Notwithstanding this ostracism, or perhaps be- 
cause of it, Winthrop did well in his studies that 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 219 


winter. Also his name appeared less frequently on 
the delinquency list, and he repaid the friendship 
shown him by Stirling, Raymond, and Bayard, 
with a single-hearted devotion of which no one 
had thought him capable. To be sure, he still 
gave way to fits of sullenness, sometimes be- 
coming so moody, low-spirited, and discouraged 
that even Jack despaired of him; though when 
he emerged from his slough of despond to coach 
poor old Bayard in French or shoulder some of 
Raymond’s difficulties in the same course, he 
found, as many people have found before him, 
that in helping others he had also helped himself, 
and while it did not bring happiness it at least 
insured peace. 

Having spoken French since childhood, Winthrop 
easily went to the first section in that course, and 
finally worked himself up to Raymond’s section 
in Mathematics. His first day there, the instructor, 
who was slightly deaf, had Winthrop up on 
questions and showed by his final “ That will do, 
Mr. Winthrop,” that he considered the boy had 
answered his last question correctly. This hap- 
pened to be something Winthrop had not mastered 
in the lesson, but out of the whole section it is 
probable that Raymond was the only one who 


220 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


noticed the error, the other men being up to their 
ears in difficult problems. Without a moment’s 
hesitation Winthrop explained the situation, and 
had the poor satisfaction of seeing the instructor 
scratch out a good mark in his section book, the 
bulletin board on the following Saturday showing 
that his honesty had cost him at least five-tenths, 
as up to that point he had clearly “ maxed ” 
the subject. 

On Raymond telling Jack of the circumstance, 
for it never occurred to Winthrop to mention it, 
Jack hovered on the brink of confession for 
several days, but failed to take the plunge, realiz- 
ing to his own shame that he had reached a point 
where he was not so much afraid of hurting 
Winthrop as of hurting himself in Winthrop’s 
estimation. 

Meanwhile the year was marching on towards 
June, the first milestone after the January ex- 
aminations being the new dress coats issued the 
plebes ; and very particular were those well set-up, 
soldierly young gentlemen as to the proper cut 
of shoulder and waist. Nor were they at all de- 
ceived by the old tailor’s inevitable “ It’s a noble 
fit, sir, a noble fit,” insisting rather that the fit be 
made nobler by letting it out at the shoulder and 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 221 


taking it in at the waist, while the bell buttons 
had to be sewed on at an angle that accentuated 
the tapering outline and gave each man the much 
desired cadet figure that but a year before had 
been his envy and despair. 

The misery of trying on a pair of tight new 
boots is not a circumstance to the agony endured 
in the first wearing of a coat that makes a rather 
solidly built young man look wasp-waisted, and 
it often took twx> classmates to get the garment 
buttoned around a fellow at the first venture, 
while it was not uncommon for the cadets to wear 
each other’s coats to help break them in. 

Jack Stirling and Tom Winthrop were perhaps 
the best looking of the class in their new outfits, 
though Raymond came in as an easy third, his 
breadth of shoulder and slenderness of waist show- 
ing off to advantage in a coat that Bayard had 
worn for a week before Raymond could so much 
as button it around him. 

The next event of importance was when the 
class marched down in sections to the Adminis- 
tration Building and took the final oath of office 
as cadets before receiving their warrant of ap- 
pointment. This made them no longer conditional 
cadets, but, according to a decision of the Supreme 


222 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Court, officers of the service, with the thrilling 
possibility of being called out in case of necessity. 

When a Notary Public read the oath aloud to 
the class, the cadets standing erect with the right 
hand raised, there was not a man among them but 
felt his heart beat faster as he solemnly swore to 
support the Constitution of the United States; to 
bear true allegiance to the national government; 
to maintain and defend the sovereignty of his 
country paramount to any and all allegiance, sov- 
ereignty, or fealty that he might owe to any 
state or country whatsoever; and that he would 
at all times obey the legal orders of his superior 
officers, and the rules and articles governing the 
Armies of the United States. 

An on-looker might have wondered why the 
authorities did not make more of a ceremony in 
administering the oath of office, for it is such a 
stirring thing to be sworn in to serve your country 
that it seems as if it should be signalized by some 
great military demonstration. Yet when each 
man raised a hand in response to his own name, 
no roar of cannon, no rattle of fife and drum, 
no waving of flags, nor stirring music from the 
band were necessary to give him a full realization 
of what it all meant. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 223 


Following close on the heels of the delivery of 
the warrants, came Washington’s birthday. This 
was celebrated only by the firing of a salute, which 
to men engrossed in study produced as much 
patriotic feeling as the slamming of a door; but 
as the Hundredth Night Entertainment came a 
day or so later, it might have been said to celebrate 
that great American’s birthday as well as the 
glorious fact that there were but a hundred days 
to June. 

June, when the graduate would don his shoulder 
straps; when the second classman would rise to 
the height of his cadet glory and become a first 
classman, falling heir to the chevrons of those 
splendid fellows who had gone before; when the 
third class of the previous summer would go on 
furlough; while, theplebes whom they had disci- 
plined so well, would fill their place with all the 
joys of yearling camp ahead of them. 

As every cadet in every class could gladly 
celebrate the hundred days to June, even con- 
finements were suspended for that one evening and 
in the original songs, addresses, and readings that 
were given in the old Mess Hall, the cadets lost no 
opportunity to fire off some well aimed jokes at 
the academic and tactical targets. As a rule 


224 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


those ponderous gentlemen never knew they had 
been hit, the Corps alone realizing that the shot 
was planted in the bull’s-eye every time; while 
the printed “ Howitzer ” might have been written 
in Greek for all it meant to the uninitiated, not- 
withstanding which many a serious-minded plebe 
sent it home with copious foot notes that the 
family might appreciate the humour so patent 
to him and to his classmates. 

Next morning, punctual to his annual appoint- 
ment, the sun peeped over the eastern hills just as 
the Corps came out of the Mess Hall, and as usual 
it was greeted joyously and noisily by all alike, 
especially the yearlings and first classmen who 
saw furlough and graduation in its beams. 

By the middle of March, drills, parades, and full 
dress guard-mountings were again in vogue on 
the cavalry plain, the parade ground being too 
soft as yet for any heavy marching, and as the 
drills lasted an hour and a quarter, which meant 
handling a ten pound rifle that length of time, 
with but a few moments “ place rest,” the fourth 
classmen were vividly reminded of the old squad 
drill, especially when they moved their sore muscles 
or looked at each other’s bruised shoulders. 

Although there were no visitors on the post, the 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 225 


officers and their families assembled every evening 
to watch parade, while at any hour of the day the 
children of the garrison might be seen going 
through the evolutions of company drill — right 
wheel, left wheel, right dress, left dress, carry arms, 
and all the rest of it — with much more facility 
than many a plebe shows after weeks of training. 

On the fifteenth of April, artillery drills began, 
and at the same hour every day the siege, the 
mortar, the sea-coast, and the light batteries all 
boomed together. 

In May came battalion drills, and the plebes 
“ boning chevrons ” prayed for rain, as the cadet 
officers reported everybody for the slightest irregu- 
larity or mistake in ranks, thus building up the 
demerit list very rapidly. Also they were each 
given a chance in the front rank, a most difficult 
experience for a novice, as in the rear rank all 
one has to do is to follow a front rank file, while 
in the front rank one has to do all the thinking and 
acting for himself, a most hazardous undertaking 
for a person inexperienced in the manual. 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN 

At the election of class officers earlier in the 
year, Stirling had been unanimously voted for 
as president, while Raymond and Riggs were 
appointed secretary and vice-president, respect- 
ively, Riggs, in addition, being made one of the 
six hop managers for the coming summer. 

This w'as considered a great honour for any one 
socially inclined, and when little Lampton found 
that he, too, had been elected, he became so airy 
in consequence that there was really no living 
with him, especially as rumour had it that he 
would probably be made a corporal in June; 
for no one came, out of plebe camp with a better 
brace than Lampton, while rooming with a 
methodical man like Raymond had saved him 
many a demerit at police inspection. 

It was characteristic of Lampton that although 
he was a good five feet eleven in height, he was 
invariably called little Lampton by the class, and 
like many another person, small in character if 
226 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 227 


not in stature, he was in such constant dread of 
being managed by some one that it gave him the 
truculent air of a small bantam rooster in a barn 
yard full of larger fowl. In fact, it was a joke 
in the Corps that at class meetings Lampton 
vehemently opposed any idea presented for his 
consideration, even going so far as to repudiate 
a pet scheme of his own were it suggested to him 
unexpectedly by somebody else. 

He was also given to lashing himself into a fury 
over nothing, seeming always to struggle not so 
much to control himself as to keep his anger at 
a white heat, and like others of the same mental 
calibre he was ever suspicious that he was being 
made the victim of a conspiracy. 

Critical and distrustful of everybody, Lampton 
sat in constant judgment over his classmates, the 
Corps, the Tactical Department, and the Academic 
Board, and in inverse proportion to his lack of 
ability, he was blustering and aggressive in his 
manner. In addition to this, he prided himself 
on his sincerity, his unfailing honesty of purpose, 
and his lack of all diplomacy. 

“I’m not like you, Stirling,” he observed one 
day in early spring, with that irritating air of 
superiority which belongs to the Pharisee of 


228 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


every age, “ for I always say what I think and 
think what I say, and nobody can bully me 
into changing my opinion.” 

Jack, busily at work cleaning his rifle for 
Sunday morning inspection, ducked his head that 
Lampton might not see the sudden amused twitch- 
ing of his lips, and Lampton went on ponderously: 

“ I was thinking particularly of your relations 
with poor old Mizzoo. Now from me, he gets the 
exact truth as to his ability in his studies, while 
you shade the truth enough to give him what I 
should call undue encouragement.” 

Jack put down his beautifully cleaned rifle, 
and washed his hands preparatory to sewing on 
some loose buttons and mending a rent in his 
dress-coat, rainy Saturdays being devoted to such 
things. 

“You know what we call shading the truth 
at West Point? ” he said at last with ominous 
quiet. 

Lampton saw that he had shot wide of the 
mark, and immediately readjusted his sights. 

“ Now, Stirling, I didn’t mean that! I only 
wanted to warn you in the friendliest way in the 
world, that you oughtn’t to buoy up old Mizzoo 
with false hopes, when his failure to get through 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 229 


even this year is foreordained. I don’t believe 
in encouraging a man to further effort when he’s 
doomed to defeat from the start. Why, do you 
realize that, though Raymond studies all the time 
he hasn’t gained a section since January? ” 

“Well, at least he hasn’t gone down a section 
either, Lamp ton,” returned Jack, “ and you must 
remember that the course isn’t a review for Ray- 
mond as it is for — some of us.” 

“ But that’s just it,” interrupted Lampton. 
“ He’s nearly three years older than most of the 
class and yet hasn’t been through this elementary 
work.” 

Jack laughed outright. 

“ I wish you knew an old friend of mine, a 
sergeant in my father’s regiment, who is given to 
saying that a man develops early intellectually 
because there’s so little of him to develop, only 
Donnelly puts it that it takes less time to make 
a pop-gun than an up to date rifle; while some 
one more learned than Donnelly, in so far as books 
are concerned, for I’d give Donnelly the palm 
outside of books, declares that the quickest and 
completest of all vegetables is the cabbage! ” 

“Well, I’d rather be a good cabbage than a 
stunted oak,” flashed Lampton, “just as I’d 


230 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


rather be honest and sincere with a few friends 
than as politic as you are, and class president.’ ’ 

“Politic?” echoed Jack. “Why, what do 
you mean, Lampton? ” 

Lampton pitched his voice to the lowest bass he 
could reach. 

“ Take Raymond’s case,” he suggested. “ Every 
one knows you’re helping him out for political 
reasons, his uncle being in the Senate and all 
that.” 

Stirling, who was not aware of this interesting 
fact, flushed hotly at the insinuation, and made 
Mr. Lampton eat his words. After which, being 
very young, he proceeded to explain that his 
interest in Raymond had no ulterior motives, 
which Lampton accepted with the inscrutable 
smile he affected on such occasions, this filling 
Jack with a dull rage at himself for having ex- 
plained his motives to such a cad, especially as 
he had done it not to justify himself in Lampton’s 
eyes, but to testify to Raymond’s worth as a 
friend. 

Winthrop coming in just then from an extra 
tour on the area, Lampton straightway departed, 
and Jack opened his heart to his room-mate, 
wondering, as so many others have before him, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 231 


why it is that people who say disagreeable things 
both to you and about you are always heralded 
as honest and sincere, while those who see your 
good points and speak of them only, are regarded 
as politic and insincere. 

“ But Lampton’s trying to belittle you is a 
compliment, Jack,” Winthrop urged, “ for you 
know a fellow doesn’t take the trouble to 
belittle any one he considers already beneath 
him.” 

Jack shook his head doubtfully, for Lampton’s 
words still rankled. 

“ Why impute motives to people utterly foreign 
to their nature? ” he went on almost bitterly. 
“ Why not credit them with being at least as 
frank as yourself? If you know you couldn’t 
do a certain ' mean, underhanded thing, why 
jump to the conclusion that your friend could 
do it? If you’re a pretty good sort of chap your- 
self, why shouldn’t you credit the next man with 
being just as decent, until he proves himself 
to the contrary? ” 

Winthrop’s dark eyes flashed. 

“ I believe you made a centre shot that time, 
Jack,” he said, “ for it stands to reason you must 
be honest and sincere yourself before you can 


232 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


believe in the sincerity and honesty of your 
neighbour, and if you’ve never learned to trust 
yourself you couldn’t be expected to trust 
another.” 

Slipping off his belts and getting into more 
comfortable clothes, Winthrop went on in the 
same philosophic vein: 

“ I knew a chap once that was saved by a 
friend’s belief in him.” 

Meeting Jack’s questioning eyes, Winthrop 
turned his own away and after a barely perceptible 
pause, continued: 

“You see, when he was little more than a baby 
his mother died, and the boy was brought up 
almost entirely by servants. His father didn’t 
look after him as well as he might have done, for 
he was a busy man, and — well, perhaps he 
didn’t understand children. Anyway, things 
weren’t as they should have been in that house, 
for while the servants were never unkind to the 
boy, they alternately indulged his every caprice 
or bullied the life out of him, for you can’t buy 
a mother’s care with all the money in the world. 
Being a fairly bright child, he soon found that by 
a system of petty lies and deceptions he could 
regulate his life to his own satisfaction, and that 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 233 


he was no longer nagged or bullied into doing 
things he didn’t want to do. 

“ As he grew older, he was allowed to go where 
he pleased, provided one of the men servants 
in the house accompanied him, but with the same 
diplomacy that had governed his childhood he 
managed to go out unattended, and staid away 
from school weeks at a time without any one 
discovering it. Then he began to frequent the 
cheaper theatres of the town, where he was soon 
hand in glove with a lot of young ruffians, who 
straightway forgave him even his good clothes 
by reason of his liberality in standing treat for 
cigarettes and beer. 

“ Now bad as all this sounds, the boy wasn’t 
really vicious. But he was weak, and he looked 
on lying simply as a means to an end, laughing 
to himself at his father’s gullibility, and absolutely 
scorning the servants for being such easy victims 
to what he was pleased to consider his superior 
intelligence. Yet for all his lack of truth, he never 
told a malicious lie nor kept a malicious silence. 
Neither did he ever clear himself of wrong doing 
at another fellow’s expense. 

“ At last he grew up, not so much immoral as 
unmoral, for half the time he didn’t know that 


234 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


he was doing wrong, and of course, being the son 
of a very rich man, he had more spending money 
than was good for him” 

Jack nodded understanding^, and Winthrop in 
a voice that was strained and unnatural went 
on: 

“ Well, one day there came into his life a fellow 
who was the soul of honour. This fellow trusted 
the other thoroughly, never questioned him in 
any way, believed him even against his own judg- 
ment, until at last, in spite of himself, the boy 
acquired the habit of truth telling. He could 
no more have told a lie than could the other 
fellow. He was saved.” 

Jack turned his eyes on Winthrop. 

“ I like that chap,” he said softly. 

Winthrop’s sombre face did not lighten. 

“ Of course you know I’m telling you my own 
story? ” 

Jack nodded a silent assent, then leaning nearer 
he said quietly: 

“ But you don’t owe the change in yourself 
to any one person, Tom. You owe it to West 
Point, and to its splendid standards. There are 
not many men who come here as fine in character 
as when they leave and, Tom, old fellow, what- 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 235 


ever you may have been in the past you’re one 
of the best men in the Corps to-day! ” 

Winthrop flushed with pleasure at his friend’s 
word of praise, and Jack, anxious to make amends 
for the past, went on : 

“ Once — once, Tom, I misjudged you so cruelly 
that even now I can’t bear to speak of it/’ And 
then in a voice which trembled in spite of his efforts 
to control it, Jack told Winthrop of his awful 
suspicions that day at the board, and how near he 
had come to taking action on them. At last with 
a strange new humility he apologized to his 
friend; but Winthrop, a sickly green pallor 
creeping over his face, as if he had been stricken 
ill by the revelation of his friend’s hasty judgment, 
made no reply. 

Jack saw the look and winced under it, though 
realizing he deserved Tom’s contempt, and getting 
up, he laid a pleading hand on the other’s shoulder. 

“ Come now, old fellow,” he begged, “ don’t be 
too hard on me.” 

Still Winthrop sat there, apparently too hurt 
for words. 

“ It isn’t like you, Tom, to bear malice towards 
any one,” begged Jack, “ and you’ll acknowledge 
I didn’t have to tell you of my unjust suspicions. 


236 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


I might have kept them to myself, only it seemed 
underhanded to do it. Come now, old chap, be 
magnanimous.’ ’ 

Winthrop shook Jack’s hand off his shoulder 
and got to his feet. 

“ Ah, Tom,” pleaded Jack. “ Remember, I 
never asked for a proof of your innocence that 
awful day. When you said you owed your good 
recitation to me, I believed you instantly, and it 
did seem queer, Tom, even you’ll admit that! ” 
and as he said it Jack looked full into the miserable 
eyes before him, only to fall back with an ex- 
clamation of dismay. 

For a long moment they stood there staring 
at one another; Winthrop, sullen and wretched; 
Jack, incredulous, shaken, sick at heart. 



. t 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

It was Winthrop who made the first attempt 
to speak, but Jack interrupted him with a gesture. 

“ Don’t! ” he gasped. “I wasn’t trying to 
pump you, Tom. I just happened on the truth. 
Oh, Tom — Tom — ! ” and Jack broke down 
completely, hiding his convulsed face on his arm. 

Winthrop stood quite still, staring out of the 
window at the sodden parade ground, as he had 
stood weeks before when it was covered with snow. 
Now the stately elms that bordered the plain 
were just beginning to show a feathery green, 
which with the trunks and branches glistening 
and black from the recent down-pour made them 
look like some huge antediluvian fern. For a 
long time the boy stood there, and though he saw 
it all half unconsciously the picture was so photo- 
graphed on his brain that as long as he lived a 
heavy spring shower would bring it back vividly. 

When he turned and looked at Jack again, his 

face had settled back into the hard old lines that 
237 


238 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


characterized it before the alchemy of friendship 
had transmuted the dross of his nature to gold. 
Seemingly unmoved by Stirling’s too evident 
emotion, he jerked out a defiant: 

“ Well, what are you going to do about it? ” 

What was he going to do about it? Jack raised 
a haggard face to Winthrop’s sullen one. Four 
months ago he would have reported Winthrop 
without a qualm, but now they were friends. He 
groaned aloud in spite of himself, and turned his 
eyes away. 

He had found so much to like in Winthrop. 
He was generous to a fault; warm in his friend- 
ship; steadfast as a rock; kindly; sympathetic; 
honest — 

Jack quivered at the word. Then remembering 
the conversation they had just had, he realized 
that the reformation Winthrop spoke of had come 
after the January examination, not before, and 
that Winthrop was guilty not only of cheating 
then, but of having lived a lie ever since the break- 
ing up of plebe camp, and he — he, Jack Stirling 
— had made this thing possible. 

Looking up again, Stirling met Winthrop’s 
haughty stare. White to the lips, the army boy 
tried to speak and, at last, after several ineffectual 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 239 


attempts he managed to stammer out a hesitat- 
ing: 

“ I feel sure this all happened before you found 
yourself, Tom, but — you must resign !” Then 
gaining courage he went on more naturally : 
“ And you must do it at once.” 

Winthrop laughed harshly. 

“Resign?” he echoed. “And why should I 
resign, please? ” 

“ Why? ” echoed Jack in turn. “ Why? Oh, 
Tom, as if you had to ask,” and with a sudden loss 
of all control, Jack dizzily, blindly, approached 
his room-mate. 

“ Tell me it isn't true, Tom! Tell me you just 
did it to punish me for having doubted you!” 

The frozen expression on Winthrop’s face 
melted and broke under Jack’s manner as the 
Hudson opens up in the spring after a hard winter, 
and the pale lips, that had been tightly pinched 
together till the skin around them was of a ghastly 
whiteness, trembled into a smile of compassion 
for his room-mate’s suffering. 

“ Dear old Jack, don’t take it so hard,” he 
begged brokenly. “I’m not worth it, Jack.” 

Stirling drew back a step. 

“ Then it is true? ” he whispered incredulously. 


240 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ And what they said of you in camp is true, too? ” 

Winthrop nodded, and then plead his case to 
the stem eyes that were passing sentence upon him. 

“ It isn’t as if it had happened lately, Jack,” 
he begged, “ and you, yourself, have quoted 
often that a man is no more responsible for his 
past sins than for the sins of his neighbour. 
It happened yesterday, old fellow, and now 
to-day is here, so well worth living, so — ” he 
stopped abruptly before the accusation in his 
room-mate’s face. 

“ Don’t! ” he cried. “ Oh, Jack, don’t look at 
me like that! You needn’t think I haven’t suf- 
fered.” A spasm of self-pity shook him from 
head to foot, and he went on more passionately 
than before: 

“ Don’t you suppose I’ve been punished, Jack? 
Don’t you think I’ve endured torments of remorse 
ever since I woke up to the fact that I had done 
wrong? Why, each time you and Raymond and 
Bayard have dwelt on tmth and honour and the 
high ideals of West Point, I’ve wanted to cry 
out and confess; every time you’ve shown your 
trust and confidence in me, I’ve been wretched 
and unhappy; and when they began to talk 
of making me a corporal in the summer,! purposely 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 241 


got demerits because I couldn’t bear the thought 
of wearing chevrons under fase pretences; and, 
if you’ll believe it, I’ve kept from going up a 
section in ‘ Math,’ and even went down one in 
French, that no one need be cheated out of any 
rank through me. I’m willing to graduate ‘ goat,’ 
Jack, I’m willing to forego class standing, now 
that I’ve found my gait. I’m willing to do any- 
thing in reason, anything but resign, and I won’t 
do that even if it costs me your friendship to 
stay here, and your friendship means more to me 
than everything else on earth.” 

Jack shivered in spite of himself at Winthrop’s 
passion, but when he spoke his voice was steady. 

“ Tom,” he said gravely, “ you’ve got to go. 
It’s not a matter that can be settled between us. 
It’s not a question of punishment, or of whether or 
not you lose my friendship by keeping still about 
it.” He paused a moment and his tanned face 
went strangely white. “ If you don’t put in your 
resignation, Winthrop, I shall report you to the 
authorities and to the class! ” 

Winthrop started back as if Jack had struck 
him. 

“You would report me? ” he cried. “You? ” 
For a moment the men looked each other 


242 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


squarely in the eye. Then Winthrop laughed his 
old reckless laugh. 

“ What proof have you that I cheated?” he 
demanded. “ And what can you tell the authori- 
ties and the class when they ask why you have 
been silent so long on the subject? ” His voice 
rose with excitement. “ It’s a game two can play 
at, Stirling, and I shall say this is all the result 
of a quarrel, so whether they force me out or not, 
you will be branded as a coward and a sneak, a 
coward for having kept still when you knew the 
truth, and a sneak for telling it merely in revenge.” 

“You mean you would lie about it? ” put in 
Jack sternly. 

“ And why not? ” jeered Winthrop. “If I 
could cheat at examinations, and make a false 
official statement under oath at a court-martial, 
couldn’t I lie to clear myself in a little matter like 
this? ” 

Jack looked at his room-mate closely, and his 
eyes softened ever so little. 

“ No, Tom,” he answered quietly, “ you couldn’t 
lie about it now, even to save yourself. Four 
months ago you might have done it, but now you 
couldn’t. No, not if your life were at stake.” 

“Well, and if I’ve changed so, why report me? ” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 243 


Winthrop pleaded. “ It’s like holding me account- 
able for the sins of somebody else, for I am different 
now,” his voice broke, “ so different that I couldn’t 
lie to save myself. I’m at your mercy, Jack.” 

Stirling weakened in spite of himself. He had 
grown to love Winthrop. He wanted to save him, 
and after all, he had no proof of the boy’s guilt 
except his own confession. Nobody would ever 
know. Why, within the last week some of the 
class had begun to speak to Winthrop again. He 
had even been mentioned for corporal’s chevrons 
in June. He had come through the furnace of 
social ostracism refined in every way. Graham 
of the third class had said but a week before that 
it was only a matter of time when Winthrop would 
prove his right to graduate at West Point. In 
his opinion the plebe had been “ cut ” unjustly, 
and the Corps owed him an apology. Why not 
keep still about it all? Why not let things drift? 
With the exception of Raymond, Jack liked Win- 
throp better than any one at the Academy. Why 
should he take it upon himself to expose him? 

He clenched his hands hard, shut his eyes for 
better concentration of thought, and after a 
moment or two of silence looked compassionately 
at his friend. 


244 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ Tom,” he began softly, “ you’ve just acknowl- 
edged you couldn’t lie to save yourself! ” 

The other boy nodded eagerly, and Jack turned 
his head away to shut out the look of hope on 
Winthrop’s face. 

“Well, if you couldn’t lie to save yourself, Tom,” 
he went on, “ would you have me to lie to save 
you ? For it would be a living lie, not only through 
the three years ahead of us but for all time.” 

Winthrop did not reply, and Jack went on in the 
curiously even tone of one who is keeping his self- 
control by a struggle. 

“You know, Tom, that a man’s standing on the 
delinquency list at West Point or his grade in the 
section room affects him not only through the 
course here, but through his entire official life. 
My father was ranked one-tenth by the man next 
above him in his class, and that man got the last 
vacancy in artillery. You see, father was awfully 
keen about going into artillery because of his 
scientific tastes, and while he never regretted his 
cavalry service on the plains, still he was not given 
the choice of the two branches, as would have 
happened if the other man had not ranked him 
by that tenth. Now, to be ranked honestly is 
bad enough, but to be ranked by a man who 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 245 


cheated — ” Jack choked on the word, recovered 
himself, and then went on more calmly: 

“ Why, Tom, a man detected even shading the 
truth here in regard to his standing, either in the 
section room or the battalion, would be ruined 
with the Corps forever; and I know you well 
enough to be quite sure that if you should go 
through the four years and graduate at the 
Academy, you’d be a very unhappy man, not only 
that you had lived a lie yourself, but that you had 
let me live one, and I’m certain a commission 
won at such a cost would be a curse instead of a 
blessing.” 

Stirred to his very depths, Winthrop turned 
impulsively towards Jack. 

“ You’re right, old fellow,” he cried. “ I can’t 
stay here, and I can’t enter the army. It wouldn’t 
be fair and above-board. And I appreciate your 
letting me resign without any one knowing the 
reason. It would about kill the Governor.” 
He held out a shaking hand to Jack. 

“ I give you my word — my word of honour,” 
both boys winced at the obvious pause, “ that I 
will put in my resignation within ten days, and 
Jack, dear old Jack, don’t think too bitterly of 
me.” 


246 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Stirling’s mouth quivered piteously. 

“ I like you better now than ever before, Tom, 
and you can’t realize how much it costs me to 
take the stand I have.” 

“ Oh, but I do realize,” interrupted Win throp. 
“ A year ago I shouldn’t have understood, but West 
Point has taught me many things, and you, Jack, 
have shown me not only how to be decent myself 
but how to credit my neighbour with being at 
least as decent as I am.” 

A week later Win throp put in his resignation, 
and when it was finally accepted, Jack, Raymond, 
and Bayard accompanied him to the top of the 
hill by the Administration Building, all four men 
as near tears as men ever come. Several times 
they said the final farewell, but Win throp could 
not tear himself away. At last Bayard and Ray- 
mond managed to blurt out awkward thanks for 
Winthrop’s assistance in their academic work that 
winter. 

Winthrop choked. 

“ Cut it out, fellows,” he said slangily, “ I hate 
to be thanked for anything, and you’ve all three 
given me more than I deserve in trust and confi- 
dence. But at least I can try to live up to your 
belief in me,” and with an affectionate bear hug 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 247 


all around, he was swinging down the hill, his heart 
in his throat, but his shoulders squared back as 
he had been taught, his handsome head held high. 

“ What a different Winthrop from the one who 
drove up that very hill not a year ago,” mused 
Raymond. “ Do you remember his carriage pass- 
ing us, Jack, the day we reported? ” 

Jack nodded a silent assent, and waved a last 
farewell to Winthrop, who had turned the comer 
near the Riding Hall. 

“ And his monocle,” went on Raymond in 
affectionate reminiscence, “ and his checked suit 
made in the exaggerated London fashion of last 
year so that it didn’t touch him anywhere; though 
if it had, he couldn’t have worn it off to-day! ” 

“ He was such a fine fellow,” Bayard put in 
shyly, “ the very soul of honour. I’m sorry he 
had to go just now, for I think he’d have made 
as good a yearling corporal as Graham! ” 



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 

At “ reveille ” on June first the Corps resumed 
the wearing of white trousers, these to be uniform 
until October, thus heralding the beginning of 
the summer season and of good times generally, 
a veritable flag of truce to the Academic Board 
that hostilities were to be suspended until 
fall. For even with the agony of approaching 
examinations hanging over them, the cadets felt 
they had really reached the end of the year, once 
they appeared in spotless white, above which 
gray coats, fitting snugly, displayed every line of 
the well set-up young figures, the cadet officers* 
uniform being further glorified by red sashes, 
much gold lace, and plumed hats. 

The day before, the plebes had “ graduated ” 
from fencing and gymnastics, fourth classmen only 
being instructed therein, and at the official weigh- 
ing and measuring that followed, hardly a man but 
showed not only a gain in avoirdupois but an in- 
crease as to chest, forearm, upper arm, and calf of 
248 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 249 


leg, some of the younger men topping their last 
year’s height by as much as an inch. 

Raymond, in particular, had developed from a 
slender stripling of a boy, narrow chested and a 
little stooped, to one of the best set-up men in the 
class; but the change had been so gradual that 
neither he nor his friends had realized the difference 
until confronted by his record of the previous year. 
Then it was found he was not only ten pounds 
heavier, but that his measurements compared 
favourably with those of the criterion of the Corps, 
handsome Jack Stirling. 

Old Grizzly even went so far as to compliment 
Raymond on his soldierly appearance, which at 
any other time would have put him in the Seventh 
Heaven of delight. But with the awful ordeal 
of examinations before him, Raymond could 
think of nothing else, this absent-minded manner, 
which even a year of military discipline had not 
been able to overcome, costing the boy several 
demerits since the first of May. 

In vain Stirling had remonstrated with his 
friend, trying to point out that any one who had 
stood so well since January was sure to pass; but 
Raymond, who had a talent for seeing the dark 
side of everything, felt sure he would either lose 


250 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


a class at his examination or perhaps be dropped 
altogether. In addition, it seems that his relatives 
felt he was not doing his best at West Point as 
that first year at Columbia he had stood well in 
his class, while here he was almost at the foot of 
it in French and was only in the fourth section in 
Mathematics, his monthly grades convincing the 
family that he was either idling his time away, or 
that the institution was a poor one, the unim- 
portant drills and parades interfering with the 
main object in life, which was to give him an edu- 
cation. 

Stirling, who felt it no disgrace to be excelled 
in class standing if a fellow had honestly done 
the best he could, and who would rather have 
won corporal’s chevrons at the end of the year than 
have come out in the first five, listened with a 
puzzled frown to the man whose family actually 
advised him to resign rather than stand so low 
in the class. 

And to think they could have imagined for one 
moment that Mizzoo had not been doing his best — 
dear, old, plodding Mizzoo, who had to be dragged 
away from his books on Saturday night and who 
had served several confinements for being caught 
after “ Taps ” with a light. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 251 


But it seems the family felt hurt that Raymond 
shouldbe serving confinements at all, and they were 
more than grieved he had six demerits to his 
account in one month, so small a number that but 
ten in the class could show as good a record; 
some, in fact, like Riggs and Gronna, considering 
it a mark of brilliancy to have a long demerit 
list and seeming rather proud of it. 

Jack was sympathetic and Raymond un- 
burdened his soul, confessing that his nervous 
and excitable disposition had been his chief stum- 
bling block ever since coming to the Academy, for 
though he often got up in class with a well pre- 
pared lesson, he became so confused that it gave 
the instructor an idea he didn’t know much about 
it, and he was marked accordingly. Indeed, Ray- 
mond felt that if examinations were written in- 
stead of oral he could be sure of passing creditably, 
but as it was he had his doubts, and he wound up 
his jeremiad with a miserable: 

“ It would be hard enough sledding, Jack, 
without the family taking me to task in every 
letter, but as it is I believe I shall follow their 
advice and put in my resignation at once, rather 
than risk failing before the Academic Board.” 

Startled beyond words, Jack looked up from the 


252 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


bit of brass ho was polishing. It was bad enough 
to have Raymond’s family suggest such a thing, 
but that Raymond, after a year at the Academy, 
could contemplate the step was inconceivable. 
Suppose he did stand low in the class, wasn’t it 
preferable to resigning? Wasn’t it manlier in any 
event to stay and fight for a better record? Why, 
it was almost like retreating on the eve of battle! 

This military turn of thought reminded Stirling 
of something, and he put aside his belt plate and 
pulled open a drawer of the table. Securing a 
number of letters there, he searched through them 
for a moment and then drew out a thick, ink- 
smeared envelope. 

Raymond, watching him moodily, smiled in 
spite of himself. 

“ Even across the room I seem to recognize 
Sergeant Donnelly’s familiar fist,” he said. “ Has 
he been writing you the latest news of Sammy 
Jr., or does this letter deal entirely with the 
quartermaster’s bull-pup? ” 

Jack thrust the ink-smeared epistle into Ray- 
mond’s hands. 

“ On reading it you’ll think the sergeant had 
you in mind, Mizzoo,” he said with quiet empha- 
sis, “ only as it happens, the letter is in answer to 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 253 


one of mine in which I mentioned that Scott of 
the third class had resigned rather than risk 
another examination.” 

“At the beginning of furlough, too!” mused 
Raymond half to himself. 

“Yes,” answered Jack, “ and our class has 
yearling camp ahead of it, Raymond, as an incen- 
tive to stay and sweat it through. But read what 
Donnelly has to say on the subject. No, not there. 
It begins at the bottom of the third page, I think.” 

Raymond looked up from the clumsily written 
sheet. 

“ The sergeant doesn’t allow himself to be 
trammelled by any artificial rules of spelling,” 
he smiled, and then read the letter aloud from 
the point indicated: 

“ Tell any friends of yrs, Mr. Jack, that think of 
resinein to stick by there guns even if they see 
the enemy ganein on em. Tell em to march inter 
the thick of the fite with there colours flyin’ & 
there drums beatin. Tell em if there goin to fale 
to fale on the firein line, to fite to the death, tho 
I woodent be sprised if the feller that had gritt 
enuf to stick it thru, woodent fale at all in the end. 

“Now from what Ive heard tell of the Point, 


254 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Ime thinkin book leamin is the leest of what you 
get nocked inter you there, & that, after all, its 
what you get nocked out of you that counts most. 

“ For instance, theres that Akerdemik Board 
that you say plum skeers the cadets outer there 
wits, & from what you rote me last Janyouary 
I shoud think it wood. In fact I reckon its some- 
thin like a Injun campane with all the Injuns in 
war paint, a-brandy-shing there Tommy Hawks 
like they couldent wate to git yr. scalp, & you 
a-tremblin in yr. regerlashun boots cause you 
sudinly remembered yr. ammunition was most 
run out. 

“Well sir, Mr. Jack, just becaws a feller is 
skeered, he oughter grit his teeth hard, draw in 
his catrige belt a mite, & hold his rifle redy for 
any emergincy. For if he cant face the Akerdemik 
Board as a cadet, he wont be able to face the enemy 
as a orficer. 

“ Why bless my brass buttons, Mr. Jack, it 
aint enuff to say we done our best in life — the 
work must show it — the results prove it, sir. 
Take the feller that nose his rithmetic from ad- 
dition up to fracktions, but who gets it skeered 
outer him by the Akerdemik Board at eggsamin- 
shuns, aint it likely by the same tokin hede get his 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 255 


nolige of tactics skeered outer him in the feeld, 
so that he mite order a retreet in the face of the 
ENEMY or march his MEN into ambush, or any 
ways lose the batle? 

“Yes sir, Mr. Jack, its morean likely, & the 
eggscuse he was eggscited & nervus woodent clear 
him none when the inspecter looked up his case. 
No, not if he knew his tactics from beginin to 
end, sir! 

“ So tell any of yr. friends that contimplate 
resinein for fear of the Akerdemik Board, to stick 
it thru, Mr. Jack, & if they finds there catriges 
give out, let em use the butt of there rifles, & if 
the rifles get nocked outer there grasp, why let 
em use there fists. 

“Yes sir, Mr. Jack, tell em to fite to the last gasp, 
& never say die to nobody , whether its Akerdemik 
Boards or Injuns or any kind of ENEMY. Tell 
em from an old soldier to stick it thru, Mr. Jack, 
& whether there side wins or loses, theyll allways 
be on good terms with theirselves.” 

Raymond’s voice trailed off strangely on the 
last words, but he re-read the letter to himself 
not once, but twice. Then turning to Jack, he 
said very quietly: 


256 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ The sergeant evidently means ‘ To every 
coward safety, and afterwards his evil hour, ’ and, 
Jack, I never thought of it before as cowardice — 
resigning from West Point, I mean, and I’m going 
to stick it through, old man, so that if I fail it will 
be on the firing line! ” 

Before Jack could answer, Riggs had poked his 
red head around the door. 

“ What’s that about the firing line, Mizzoo? ” 
he demanded. 

Stirling explained that Raymond intended to 
“do up ” the Academic Board at examinations, 
whereupon Riggs chuckled delightedly. 

“ Sic ’em, Mizzoo,” he urged as if to a fighting 
dog. “ Tear ’em up! Eat ’em alive! What’s the 
Academic Board anyway but a lot of overripe 
cadets? What are the instructors but so many old 
graduates? Don’t you suppose they’ve all trembled 
at these very blackboards, just as we’re doing 
to-day? Don’t you suppose they’ve ‘bugled it ’ 
in their time? Or tried to keep a new instructor 
busy answering questions through most of the 
hour? Or assumed an air of eager expectancy 
to be allowed to go to the board when that was 
the one thing they wanted to avoid that day? ” 

Raymond threw back his head and laughed 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 257 


more heartily than he had done in weeks, then 
sobering down a bit, he asked how Gronna was 
getting along with his work. 

Riggs made a wry face. 

“ I only wish he had half your chance, Mizzoo. 
Poor chap! He’s in the room now, a wet towel 
around his head, and old Bradley loading him to 
the muzzle with ‘ Math 

“ Aren’t you afraid that red hair of his will set 
fire to the ammunition and cause a premature 
explosion? ” chuckled Raymond. 

“Well, the ‘ Math’s ’ dry enough to bum, good- 
ness knows,” retorted Riggs, and then more 
soberly : 

“ I tell you what it is, fellows, the sight of poor 
old Gronna ‘ boning ’ away there day and night, 
with some of the first section men running details 
to help him out in both ‘ Math ’ and French, has 
sobered me down considerably; for I can’t help 
feeling I’m more than half responsible for his 
standing so low in the class, and that perhaps I 
was the cause of Burges being found in January.” 

“You see,” went on Riggs regretfully, “ I’ve 
never had any ambition except to graduate foot 
of the class since I can’t graduate one, preferring 
to take the booby prize than no prize at all. As 


258 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


I reasoned it out, I wasn’t hurting anybody but 
myself by disobeying regulations, not studying, 
and all that. But lately I’ve begun to think 
that’s the very thing that hurts the Corps after 
all, the dodging of personal responsibility, you 
know, the playing hooky, as it were, with ourselves. 
In fact, that it’s awfully B. J. to do things here 
at the Point that if all the Corps followed suit 
would wreck the Academy. For instance, I know 
that I’ve made Gronna as trifling as I am, while 
poor old Burges must have found it hard to do 
any serious work with the two of us poking 
fun at him all the time for being such a 
dig.” 

Jack looked up from a collar he was 
crimping, preparatory to pinning it on his dress- 
coat. 

“ I don’t think you ought to lay Burges’ failure 
to your account,” he said judicially, “ for it must 
be admitted that when Burges ‘began to have 
whiskers he left off having brains.’ As for Gronna, 
I’m sure he’ll pass with men like Bradley and 
Bruce and Marr to prime him, and such a good 
natured old file as his instructor to pull the 
lanyard.” 

“ But he’s scared stiff about the whole business,” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 259 


groaned Riggs, “ and you know as well as I do 
that coolness is indispensable to a fellow on trial 
for his official scalp.” 

“ Give him a dose of Donnelly’s patent nerve 
reviver,” suggested Raymond, and at a nod from 
Jack he proceeded to read Donnelly’s character- 
istic letter aloud to Riggs. This resulted in Riggs 
carrying off the document to help hearten up 
Gronna, who was as far down in the depths as a 
person of his temperament — and hair — ever 
gets. 

So all unconsciously Jack’s old friend was re- 
sponsible for at least two of the class entering 
on their examinations like young Davids going out 
to slay their Goliaths with only a sling and a 
stone; Raymond, in particular, being so buoyed 
up by this new found belief in himself that he 
entered the examination room so confident, so 
strong, so self-reliant in manner that his instructor 
noted the change, and wrongly inferred that he 
had drawn an easy subject from the folded slips 
on the table. 

Fortunately for Raymond, he opened the slip 
with his back to the room or every one on the 
Academic Board would have seen the spasm that 
distorted his face as he read it over, for it was so 


260 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


difficult a subject in Geometry that even a first or 
second section man might have quailed before it, 
while to one in the fourth section it practically 
meant defeat. 



I 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 


Half dazed, he heard this classmate or that 
recite, and was conscious of the professor’s quick, 
snappy questions, and the instructor’s slower 
method of bringing out what a man knew or did 
not know of the subject under discussion. 

On one side of him, Doolittle, a Kansas boy, 
hesitated over dividing similar polygons into the 
same number of triangles, similar each to each, 
and similarly placed, a problem Raymond felt 
half bitterly that he could have solved with his 
eyes shut and his hands tied behind him. On the 
other side, a rather stocky young man from 
Kalamazoo inscribed a regular hexagon in a given 
circle, his childish, uneven figures wandering over 
the board perilously near where Raymond was 
vainly endeavouring to solve his own very diffi- 
cult problem. 

He had gone so far as to write the given data in 
proper forms, after which he stood clutching at 
a piece of chalk, his eyes fixed vacantly on the 
board in front of him. 


261 


262 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


What was it Sergeant Donnelly had said about 
courage on the firing line? He couldn’t seem to 
remember. He had forgotten everything but that 
awe inspiring array of professors and instructors, 
all in full uniform. Vaguely he realized that none 
of the garrison people were present, nor any one 
from the Board of Visitors, for it was a blustering, 
stormy day that ought by rights to have been early 
in March rather than early in June. At least he 
would have no witnesses to his failure, aside from 
the Academic Board and some classmate behind- 
hand in his own work. Through the back of his 
dress-coat he could seem to feel the professor’s 
keen brown eyes scanning the board, empty 
of everything but the first bare outline of the prob- 
lem in question, his beautiful writing and careful 
figures in marked contrast to the work on either 
side. 

If he passed this examination, he would be a 
yearling instead of a plebe, with all the joys of 
yearling camp ahead of him! But could he pass 
it? 

Again and again he tried to concentrate his 
mind on the problem he was to solve, but his 
old fear of the Academic Board was upon him 
stronger than ever, and besides, the problem 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 263 


was a very difficult one. How hot he was, and how 
his head throbbed, while the general outline of 
the work swam before his eyes in lines of fire, 
one little point always evading him, one little 
point and he could go on. 

Fifteen minutes passed ; a half hour ; forty-five 
minutes; and still Raymond stood there motion- 
less. 

At last, feeling he could do no more, and realiz- 
ing the hopelessness of trying to “ bugle ” it, 
he whirled around mechanically and faced the 
Academic Board. As in a dream he saw his 
instructor’s worried look, and the indifferent air 
of the other officers, this making more apparent 
the sudden glance that pierced him through and 
through from the professor’s keen eyes. 

White to the lips, Raymond drooped visibly 
before the approaching storm as heralded by the 
ominous lowering of the professor’s heavy brows, 
and he felt rather than heard that gentleman’s 
voice thundering at him, and realized that soon 
he would be swept off his feet by the onrushing 
flood of admonition, for while the professor would 
have hesitated to shame the boy before the Board 
of Visitors, he did not hint a fault now, but let 
his trenchant disapproval fall like hail upon the 


264 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


plebe’s luckless head, the storm growing in volume 
and force with every word. 

That the professor of Mathematics was the most 
kindly of men, Raymond did not know for years 
to come; nor was he aware that his seeming dis- 
paragement and denunciation were but methods 
used to galvanize cadets into action of some kind. 
But suddenly it had the desired effect, for with 
a start Raymond awakened to what the professor 
was saying, his every word as cutting to the boy’s 
sensitive soul as a verbal east wind, but a wind 
that swept aside the haze which had enveloped 
him. 

“ The Mathematical Department can get along 
very well without men of your mental calibre, 
Mr. Raymond,” he concluded, “ very well indeed, 
sir, and I must say it is incredible to me that a 
man of your average good' marks since January, 
should make such a poor showing at examination. 
Why, sir, a gentleman in the last section would 
be ashamed to fail without at least an effort 
to retrieve himself, and although I admit you have 
drawn one of the most difficult subjects of the 
day, yet it surprises me to see a gentleman in the 
fourth section fail unconditionally, uncondition- 
ally, sir! ” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 265 


Something seemed to waken Raymond to 
immediate action. What had the professor said? 
That he had failed, and failed unconditionally 
at that? Oh, no, a thousand times, no! 

As in a flash the little point that had evaded 
him came to mind and he was sure that he could 
solve the problem now, did the professor but give 
him a chance. Why was the Academic Board 
delaying him anyway, when every moment was 
precious? The colour rushed back into his white 
face and he straightened up stiffly, at which the 
professor, used to just such an effect from his 
slightest word, smiled into his moustache, though 
his brows were still drawn into that ominous 
line that met just above his nose. 

“ Well, Mr. Raymond,” he demanded, “ have 
you anything to say, sir? ” 

The plebe was mentally working out the prob- 
lem on the board behind him, his slow, methodical 
mind stirred for once into daring leaps. He 
could see the theorem proving itself before his 
eyes. 

It was his — his — and yet the professor just 
said he had failed. With a quick glance at the 
clock, he began stiffly: 

M If you please, Professor, I still have ten minutes 


266 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


of the hour left and if you will give me the time, 
I can prove this theorem, sir. And — and I don’t 
consider for one moment I have failed, Professor. 
In fact, you couldn’t find me deficient in Mathe- 
matics if you wanted to, sir.” 

“ What? ” roared the professor, jumping from 
his chair in sheer amazement at the fourth class- 
man’s audacity. “ Why, what do you mean, sir? 
What do you mean, I say? ” 

The other members of the Board sat up very 
straight, while the young instructor stared in- 
credulously at Raymond, and tugged at his blond 
moustache, very much embarrassed and not a 
little amused, for it was the first time in his ex- 
perience either as a cadet or an instructor, that 
any one had bearded the mathematical lion in his 
den. 

Raymond saw the different expressions on the 
faces before him in a queer, impersonal way, and 
heard himself reply: 

“ I mean, Professor, that you can’t find me 
deficient in Mathematics because I know the 
subject too well. If you will give me the time re- 
maining of the hour I am sure I can prove the 
theorem on the board to your satisfaction, sir.” 

The professor choked, turned very red, took 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 267 


out his glasses, and after polishing them carefully 
with his handkerchief, said : 

That will do, Mr. Raymond, — er — suppose 
you finish the work on the board, before you — 
er — challenge the Academic Board to find you 
deficient in Mathematics, sir. Yes, Mr. Raymond, 
you are at liberty to begin at once, sir! ” 

In a moment Raymond had faced about, stripped 
off his white gloves, and was at work, the chalk 
flying in every direction. Filled with a curious 
elation, he wrote and figured and figured and 
wrote, as if in a race against time. With magical 
swiftness the neat figures grew under his nervous 
hand, the whole board presenting an appearance 
that made the instructor smile as he took note of 
it. In less than five minutes, Raymond had shaken 
himself free from chalk, and drawing on his gloves, 
he turned once again to face the Academic Board 
arrayed against him, giving that important body of 
men as delightful an exhibition of geometric 
reasoning as they had ever listened to. 

Throughout the recitation Raymond’s instruc- 
tor tugged at his long moustache continuously, 
a sign the cadets invariably interpreted as a 2.9 
at the least, while the professor, rolling a pencil 
between his hands, sat on the edge of his chair 


268 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


ready to jump at the first false statement. But 
Raymond, calm as if talking to one of his own 
classmates, rattled through the theorem without 
having been interrupted once in his process of 
reasoning. Then he stood respectfully at atten- 
tion, the pointer resting on the floor in front of 
him. 

The professor of Mathematics drew a long 
breath, after which he asked Raymond a few 
difficult questions pertaining to the subject. 
These Raymond answered with a coolness that 
surprised himself, the professor meanwhile nod- 
ding his head approvingly while the instructor 
continued to pull at his long moustache. 

“Very well, Mr. Raymond,” said the professor 
at last. “ That will do, sir.” Then with a sudden 
admiration for the boy’s spirit, “ And I don’t 
mind saying right here, Mr. Raymond, that as 
long as you continue to make recitations like 
that, you can continue to challenge the Academic 
Board to find you deficient in Mathematics,” 
and a quizzical smile spread in radiating lines 
from the brown eyes to be lost in the meshes of 
the snowy moustache. 

Raymond read the smile aright, and knew that 
he had not only come out victorious in this second 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 269 


battle with the Academic Board, but that the 
spoils of the conqueror would be a “ clean max ” 
to his credit. 

With the exception of Riggs and Gronna, all 
of Stirling’s special friends came out very well at 
the June examinations, Raymond, Bayard, and 
Stirling himself, gaining three or four files over 
their January general standing. But Gronna 
found himself in the “ Immortals,” and Riggs two 
sections lower in both French and Mathematics, 
than before the examinations nailed him to the 
cross of his idleness. 

Then events succeeded each other so rapidly 
that the fourth classmen were fairly bewildered, 
for aside from the glorious privilege of being free 
from reveille until eight in the evening to go any- 
where on the post they pleased, providing, of 
course, it did not interfere with parades and 
drills and roll calls, they were in a continuous state 
of excitement over the arrival of some distinguished 
visitor or other, on the post, while above all 
was the joy of having the dreaded examinations 
over and the year’s work well behind them. 

The graduation hop put the exclamation point 
on a week of unalloyed happiness. It was then 
the plebes lost their “ Mister,” and according to 


270 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


West Point custom were accepted as equals by 
the Corps, their first social appearance being pre- 
pared for weeks in advance, when they drew danc- 
ing pumps and hop gloves from the commissary, 
putting aside their “ spooniest ” white trousers 
for the great occasion, and polishing up the 
buttons of their dress-coats till they would have 
served as so many mirrors. 

The hop managers for the coming summer 
were especially anxious as to their appearance, 
though hardly a man in all the class but would 
have made a good colour sentinel from the top 
of his closely cropped head to the point of his new 
patent leather pumps, and no debutante at her first 
ball ever felt a more delightful flutter than did 
these young men, who at the door of the hop room 
burst the chrysalis of plebedom to emerge full 
fledged cadets with all the joys of yearling camp 
ahead of them. 

Hung with flags, and further decorated with 
palms and plants the ball-room looked most unlike 
the sombre place where the written examinations 
had been held, and to the Corps in general, and 
the plebes in particular, every girl there w r as a 
belle and a beauty, every matron a vision of 
gracious loveliness. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 271 


To more cosmopolitan eyes than those of the 
plebes the scene was a brilliant one, for aside 
from handsome gowns and jewels, there were 
army officers in full dress uniform, representing all 
branches of the service, and all ranks from major- 
general down to second lieutenant; cadets re- 
splendent in dazzling white trousers and snug 
fitting gray coats, with here and there a chevron 
and crimson sash to gild the refined gold of their 
bell buttons ; while the few black coated civilians 
lounging against the walls looked most incon- 
gruous when contrasted with their gold-laced, 
uniformed brothers. 

In the receiving line with the Commandant’s 
wife and the Superintendent’s niece stood Faulk- 
ner, his bell buttons seeming to have a greater 
lustre than any others in the room, his chevrons 
to be more glittering, his crimson sash brighter. 
Strong and splendidly proportioned, he towered 
above the other heads around him, graciously 
bending as he spoke a name here, shook a hand 
there, or reminded the Commandant’s wife that 
the little man approaching was a prominent mem- 
ber of the Board of Visitors, the Commandant’s 
wife having a memory as short-sighted as her eyes. 

With that shibboleth of small talk which dis- 


272 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


tinguishes the social Ephraimite from the Gilead- 
ite pretender, Faulkner welcomed everybody, 
seeming to have as good a memory for names as he 
had for faces, so that all who came within the 
radius of his smile felt unconsciously warmed by 
it. 

To the plebes, standing around in awkward 
little groups and vainly trying not to appear like 
plebes nor address upper classmen as “ Mister ” 
and “ Sir,” Faulkner seemed the personification 
of elegance ; and when the dancing had really be- 
gun and the Commandant’s wife was seated where 
she could keep an eye on the door for belated guests 
their admiration turned to adoration; for, re- 
membering his own first ball at West Point, 
Faulkner looked up the fourth classmen, who 
straightway forgot their timidity under the 
impetus of having such a high ranking cadet officer 
slap them familiarly on the back, and call them 
by name. 

Presently, too, without their understanding 
in the least how it was done, he had taken them 
up to different girls, such very nice girls, who 
plainly showed they were more than willing to be 
on with the new yearling class before they were 
off with the old, or rather before the old was off on 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 273 


furlough. Some of the men took to the social 
side of cadet life with more avidity than they had 
ever shown for the academic or tactical side; 
though a few of the class, like Jack Stirling, Ray- 
mond, and Chevalier Bayard, preferred the Ori- 
ental method of looking on while others danced 
for them. 

Coming upon Stirling, standing for a moment 
by himself at the hop room door, Faulkner carried 
him off in triumph, deaf to Jack’s protests that 
he had no ambition to be a “ spoonoid ” and 
simply wanted to look on. 

“ Nonsense! ” Faulkner said, and without fur- 
ther ado Jack found himself bowing to this girl 
or that, all ready to smile upon the handsome 
yearling, that rumour had it would be made first 
corporal on the morrow. 

There was the Adjutant’s niece, a pretty, viva- 
cious girl, simply loaded down with bell buttons 
and visibly ready for more; there was a New 
York beauty, haughty and cold, with eyebrows 
raised in perpetual protest at other people’s 
social lapses; there were twin sisters from the 
South, and so alike that Jack was almost certain 
he had been introduced twice to the same one; 
there was a gushing boarding school miss, not yet 


274 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


out of short dresses; and a tall, bean-pole of a 
woman who, according to rumour, had been com- 
ing to West Point since the Superintendent’s 
plebe year, but who danced so well that her age 
was forgiven her. 

There were all sorts and conditions of girls, 
blonde and brunette, short and tall, fat and thin, 
pretty and plain, clever and stupid. They wore 
gowns from Paris, or book muslins made up by 
some country dressmaker. Their hair was ar- 
ranged in an elaborate coiffure of puffs and waves 
and curls, or simply coiled in the neck, or braided 
down the back. They wore ornaments varying 
from priceless jewels to a rose or a bow of ribbon, 
and all and individually smiled their sweetest on 
the man who was vouched for by the great Faulk- 
ner. 

At each introduction Jack bowed in a stiff, 
military way, and mumbled something politely 
non-committal to the effect that he was greatly 
honoured. Faulkner remonstrated with Stirling, 
and told him that his chevrons would exact some- 
thing from him in the social line, and that he 
should accept the hops and band concerts as part 
of his West Point training. 

“ I know it! ” Jack answered regretfully, and 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 275 


then with a little shame-faced grin: “ But really, 
Faulkner, I’m not used to girls, you know, and I 
simply hate to dance, and — ” 

But Faulkner had halted him once again in 
front of a fluffy white skirt, the ruffles of which 
were caught up here and there with bunches of 
purple violets. That much Jack saw before he 
raised his eyes, while Faulkner’s laughing voice 
was asking the wearer of the fluffy gown to take 
Jack in hand. 

“ He’s the finest fellow in the Corps from a 
military standpoint,” he insisted, “ but a social 
mutineer. Won’t you undertake to make him 
a * spoonoid,’ please? ” 

Very much embarrassed, half at Faulkner’s 
bantering manner, half at his commendation, Jack 
looked up from the violet-trimmed flounces to the 
face of the girl beside him. 

With a little gasp of surprise he recognized 
Marie Harding. 



CHAPTER NINETEEN 


“ I think Mr. Stirling and I have met before,” 
Marie said quietly, though her eyes were dancing 
with fun. 

The first classman looked properly mystified, 
at which Jack, quite forgetting his embarrass- 
ment, explained that it had been long ago as 
children in Montana, but Miss Harding interposed 
a quiet word to the effect that they had met again 
the previous summer when Jack reported at the 
Academy. 

Stirling blushed violently, and Faulkner, re- 
membering the incident and how Jack had paid 
for it throughout plebe camp, laughed a little; 
whereupon the girl, blushing herself, apologized 
handsomely for having caused her old friend so 
much embarrassment by her ignorance of West 
Point customs. 

Jack liked her direct manner and the frank 
way she had of looking him straight in the eye, 
quite as if she had been another boy, and he 

276 



“ ‘ I THINK MR. STIRLING AND I HAVE MET BEFORE,' MARIE 


SAID QUIETLY 















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AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 277 


liked her apology for having unwittingly been the 
cause of his misery the previous summer. So, 
very much in the same spirit that Marie tried to 
make amends for her inadvertence, Jack absolved 
her of all wrong doing and put her quite at ease 
by a laughing allusion to the fact that they were 
at last quits for the time he had stolen her best 
doll and played Indian with it. 

Faulkner was immensely amused, and pleased 
as w^ell that Jack had found his tongue, so when 
a waltz struck up he left them together. 

Miss Harding turned to Jack in the fearless 
way characteristic of her, with a half laughing: 

“ Well, and aren’t you going to ask me for a 
dance, Mr. Stirling? ” 

Jack gulped. 

“ If you were any one else, Marie,” he declared, 
“ I suppose the polite thing to say would be that 
I didn’t dare hope you had a dance left, but to 
tell the truth, I’m afraid to try it. I was the 
instructor’s despair last year in dancing.” 

Marie was much amused. 

“ And if you were any one else,” she laughed, 
“ I shouldn’t dare tell you that I had my partner 
save a couple of dances, hoping you’d come up 
for them,” and she held out her programme where, 


278 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


sure enough, the two succeeding dances were 
disengaged. 

Jack, trembling in his brand new pumps, rose 
to the occasion bravely. 

“ Well, if you aren’t afraid to try me — ” he 
began, but the girl interrupted with a quiet: 

“ Oh, you needn’t assume that martyred air, 
Jack Stirling. I’m not going to ask you to dance. 
But I’d like to talk over old times, and should also 
be more than glad to meet some of your class- 
mates.” 

So Jack, little dreaming that the belle of the 
ball was honouring him, carried her off on his arm 
to a sheltered window where they were soon deep 
in the latest news of the old regiment. 

Had Jack heard that they might be ordered away 
from Leavenworth in the fall ? Did he know that 
Dodson of E troop had been made a first lieu- 
tenant within the last fortnight? Had any one 
told him that little Jim Lewis stood one in his 
class at Yale, and that Dick Richards was on the 
foot-ball team? Oh, and wasn’t it funny to think 
of Tommie Turner studying art in Paris? And 
did he know that Franklin Scott was going to the 
Boston “Tech”? And that Harold Gregory, 
though standing well at Princeton w'here he was 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 279 


one of the leading athletes of the class, was strain- 
ing every nerve for an appointment “ at large ” 
to the Academy? And hadn’t Big Ben developed 
into the nicest sort of a fellow since the old days 
in Montana? 

Of course he knew about Sergeant Donnelly’s 
marriage to Dinah ? And had he heard that Dinah 
refused to have anything to do with the wives 
of mere privates, now that she was married to 
the ranking first sergeant of the regiment? 

And, yes, wasn’t it glorious that Jack’s mother 
and the baby were to come on for a short visit 
during yearling camp? Jack would be crazy over 
Samuel Donnelly, Jr., as the sergeant always 
called him. He was the most wonderful baby in 
the regiment, and already, it seemed, when 
shown his brother’s cadet picture he could say 
“ Jack ” as plain as any one, and also when asked 
how much he loved Jack he would hug his own 
fat, little body and make sundry noises inter- 
preted by a fond mother to mean “ more than 
tongue can tell.” 

It was all so entertaining that Jack quite forgot, 
till the beginning of the second dance, he ought 
to introduce some of his classmates to Marie, 
but in a few moments he had her quite surrounded 


280 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


by a number of cronies, among them Raymond, 
Bayard, and little Riggs. 

To their own great surprise, the new yearlings 
straightway forgot that but yesterday they had 
been mere plebes, so interested was the handsome 
Miss Harding in all they had to say ; so ready with 
her appreciative laugh at Riggs’ funny stories, 
kept in pickle for just such an occasion ; so pleased 
to turn over her card for the hop three weeks 
from that night to Lampton ; and the one a week 
from that to Riggs, who was mentally keelhauling 
himself for not having asked her before Lampton 
did; while Bayard found balm in her friendly 
speeches for having tripped and fallen with his 
first and only partner that evening, the com- 
bination of tight new pumps and a highly 
polished floor proving too much for his awkward- 
ness. 

When dashing Bob Graham finally came up for 
his dance with Miss Harding, he stared in amaze- 
ment to see her surrounded by members of the 
third class, and to the delight of those socially 
inclined intimated that they were mighty lucky 
yearlings — yearlings, mark you ! — to have met 
the most popular girl on the post at their very first 
dance. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 281 


Miss Harding turned to her new friends with a 
deprecating laugh. 

“ What is a girl to do when a man compliments 
her in that sledge hammer way? ” she protested. 

“ But you’re so skilful parrying sword thrusts,” 
he excused himself, “ that the only way to get a 
compliment in is to club you over the head with 
it.” 

“So you always render the enemy defenceless 
before attacking him! ” she mocked. “ And 
you a West Pointer! ” 

Just then they swung off in a waltz, and the girl, 
who carried herself like a yearling corporal, 
smiled back over Graham’s shoulder at her new 
friends by the window. And whenever she passed 
them in waltz or polka during the remainder of 
the evening, she nodded gaily while once, when 
Raymond sprang forward to hand her a pro- 
gramme that had dropped, she even remembered 
his name, which was quite intoxicating. 

Early next morning the President and the 
Secretary of War arrived on the post, amidst the 
thunder of guns, and right after guard-mounting 
came a review in their honour. When this was 
over the first class was escorted to a pavilion in 
front of the Library, where the cadets stacked 


282 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


arms and took their places for the graduating 
ceremony. 

First came a speech by a well-known Senator 
on the Board of Visitors, a brilliant burst of 
eloquence, short and to the point; after which 
old General Gray addressed the graduates in a 
few well chosen words, but so poorly delivered 
that all realized the grizzly, bearded veteran of 
many campaigns was more successful fighting 
Indians than delivering orations, and at last came 
the bestowal of diplomas by the President, w r ho, 
in his seat of honour, had been stared out of 
countenance during that hour and a half. 

The unexpected glory of having their diplomas 
handed them by the President of the United States 
caused quite a flutter among the graduates, 
and when the honour man of the class, who 
graduated higher than any one ever had at the 
Academy, stepped up for his diploma, the President 
not only shook him by the hand, as he afterward 
did all the others, but in addition congratulated 
him on the fine record he was leaving behind, 
a nice little speech that remained a life legacy 
to that particular first classman and his friends. 

After the presentation of diplomas the Corps 
marched to the front of barracks, where the old 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 283 


first class adjutant read the name of his successor, 
and those other “ makes ” among the com- 
missioned and non-commissioned officers, the 
Corps, meanwhile, standing at attention and 
giving no outward sign when a heart suddenly 
leapt with joy at the fulfilment of all its hopes, 
or another sank at the shattering of a year’s 
ambition. 

At last he reached the list of new corporals, 
and no one was surprised to hear Stirling’s name 
read out first. Then came the others, among 
them little Lampton and Mann and Bradley, 
the list ending with Raymond’s name, John 
Breckinridge Raymond. 

For a moment Mizzoo doubted his own ears. 
He felt there had been some mistake, that the 
cadet adjutant was speaking of Raymond of the 
present first class, that perhaps he had been made 
a cadet lieutenant, and in some way his name had 
been misplaced among the corporals. But, no, 
that was impossible, and then, besides, the adju- 
tant had said Raymond J. B., not Raymond R. S. 

Even Stirling, who perhaps realized better 
than any one in the class Raymond’s real worth, 
was surprised. Not that the Missourian didn’t 
deserve the honour, but that nobody even for a 


284 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


moment had considered him available for the 
position, as Raymond simply went ahead and did 
his duty without any thought of “ boning chev- 
rons,” standing erect because he had learned to 
do so in plebe camp, and going through every 
military formation without the least enthusiasm, 
this being replaced by a machine-like uniformity 
that in the end had counted over more ambitious 
soldiers. 

Riggs once said of Raymond that he did his 
duty as naturally as he brushed his teeth, and as 
he had fought his way up inch by inch in class 
standing, so he had attained the crowning glory 
of yearling camp, a corporal’s chevrons, and with 
no more idea of such a reward than of being made 
Superintendent, and this notwithstanding half the 
class had been striving for them ever since their 
admission to the Academy. 

If the new corporal had not been in the rear 
rank some one would have seen the shiver of 
incredulous delight that shook him from head to 
foot, though in a moment he had gained control 
of himself, the boyish shoulders, so much broader 
and straighter than they had been a year before, 
squaring themselves more resolutely under the 
same will power that checked the trembling 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 285 


of his lips and the sudden suffusion of his 
eyes. 

Even Jack Stirling, for all his popularity, did 
not come in for the same enthusiasm that greeted 
Raymond the moment ranks broke. For Jack’s 
appointment had been a foregone conclusion 
from “ beast barracks,” while Raymond was 
one of the last to leave the awkward squad and, 
with poor old Bayard, had been the despair of the 
cadet instructor. Now, that young martinet was 
one of the first to rush up with congratulations, 
slapping Raymond on the back and punching him 
in the ribs as if they had been old friends, though 
only yesterday, Raymond had been calling the 
new sergeant major, “ Mr. Graham, sir! ” 

Such a hilarious, jubilant, side-splitting time 
as they made of those few minutes before the drum 
in the sallyport called them to dinner. Such 
slapping of shoulders, and flinging up of caps; 
such sportive pugilism; such buffoonery, banter, 
and badinage as the new chevrons were pinned 
on; such skylarking and monkey tricks. Now 
they tore around the area with a newly made 
corporal, sergeant, lieutenant, or captain held 
aloft on sturdy shoulders; now threatened to 
“ drag ” them the first wet night in camp. When 


286 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


the furloughmen and graduates in their brand- 
new “ cits ” appeared at door or window, they 
were greeted by a cross-fire of wit and ridicule, 
madcap wearers of the motley being quite in 
their element, though their smart sayings and 
flashes of wit were no better received than were 
the more obvious jokes of quieter men. 

If any ambitions had been shattered by the 
reading out of the new officers and non-com- 
missioned officers in the battalion of cadets, no 
one looking down upon the area in its holiday 
excitement would have realized it, for the third 
class of yesteryear were arm in arm with the third 
class of to-day; and the stem drill master of the 
previous summer clumsily hugged the new cor- 
poral, who after this, unless the second classman 
happened to be a “ non-com ” himself, would 
rank him at all military formations; while the 
first class officers were delirious with a joy that 
carried with it the responsibility of succeeding 
such splendid men as Faulkner, Jim Little, and 
Dude Fitch. 

Perhaps no “ make ” was more joyfully hailed 
by the Corps than was that of Graham as sergeant 
major; and soon the whole new yearling class 
was howling “ Hurrah for Graham! Hurrah for 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 287 

Graham! ” quiet old Bayard’s voice leading the 
rest. 

From an area room in barracks, Faulkner 
watched it all with a queer pain tugging at his 
heart. Up to that moment he had hardly realized 
it was he who was to graduate, his long connection 
with the Academy and its round of duties making 
him feel that he was a fixture there. Unconsciously 
he had always cast his thoughts of graduation 
in the third person, and in his enumeration of the 
days to June had joyfully hailed the passing ones, 
looking forward to the hour of his graduation as 
the supreme one of his life, for if any course in the 
country makes the graduate deserve his diploma, 
it is the one at West Point. There is no dodging 
of examinations there; no cramming for them, 
nor cheating through them. Neither is their 
favouritism shown, the diploma being a certifi- 
cate of good, hard, honest work faithfully per- 
formed. Add to this the strain that four years 
of such discipline and endless drilling imposes, 
and it is small wonder that no days are so joyfully 
hailed in passing as the hundred days to gradua- 
tion. 

And yet as Faulkner stood there, the diploma 
he had received from the President safely packed 


288 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


in his trunk, the four years well behind him, a 
mist of tears blotted out the old area of barracks 
and he turned away from it blindly, mechanically 
buttoning up the civilian sack suit that was 
intended to be worn open. He had not dreamed 
it would be so hard to leave it all. He had not 
realized he cared so much. 

On the stairs he met Jack and Raymond in 
search of him, their faces alight with pride in the 
new chevrons. Faulkner held out a hand to each. 

“I’m so proud of you both,” he said with a 
smile that challenged them from his eyes before 
it advanced from his lips, “ and I’m sure you’ll 
wear the chevrons to the end.” He reached 
into a pocket and drew forth the insignia of a 
cadet captain, one chevron apiece, which with 
a little laugh he presented to his young ad- 
mirers. 

“ For luck,” he said shortly, and then with an 
odd little catch in his voice: “You’ll find the 
shoulder straps weigh more than chevrons. I’m 
almost sorry to give these up.” 

Jack who loved everything about the Academy 
returned Faulkner’s look with understanding 
eyes; but Raymond wondered that an officer, 
who had drawn one of the finest cavalry regiments 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 289 


in the service, could ever regret giving up West 
Point gray for Army blue. 

He said something of the kind, but Faulkner 
only smiled a little sadly: 

“ I was just like you, Raymond, my dreams 
ever full of graduation, and speeding the hour 
that would witness my release from the Academy ; 
but Stirling, here, lives in the present and gets the 
best out of it. You’ll understand one of these days 
what I mean, Raymond, and be as homesick for 
the Academy as you were for Missouri this time 
last year.” 

Just then came a shout from the area. 

“ Faulkner! Faulkner! Faulkner! ” and a half 
dozen husky fellows tore up the iron stairs of 
barracks. 

They were mostly of the new first class, and 
Faulkner stood waiting for them, a smile on his 
face as he recognized his special dutyman of four 
years ago, and another high ranking lieutenant 
who had been one of the most obstreperous plebes 
in that summer’s camp, and a sworn foe to Faulk- 
ner and all Faulkner’s friends. 

Now, flushed with anything but animosity, he 
swung the big graduate off his feet, and between 
them the six managed to get him down the stairs. 


290 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Arrived in the area, they were immediately sur- 
rounded by a howling mob of cadets, both in 
uniform and civilian clothes, and if “ Assembly ” 
had not sounded at that identical moment it 
is not impossible but that Faulkner would have 
been tom limb from limb in the wild enthusiasm 
at his appearance ; for never had a man graduated 
from the Academy leaving behind him a more en- 
viable record than did Faulkner of Missouri. 

At the first roll of the drum, more than half 
of the furloughmen and graduates started to fall 
in line. Then, remembering, they stopped short, 
while the first and third class stepped into ranks. 
A moment later, commanded by the new first cap- 
tain, handsome Billy Bancroft, straight and slim 
as the barrel of a rifle, the battalion, looking 
strangely attenuated, marched to the Mess Hall, 
the plebes of yesterday scarce realizing that the 
much longed-for yearling camp was at hand. 



CHAPTER TWENTY 

Camp life began with a week of steady drizzle, 
and chilly weather at that. This ‘made miserable, 
shivering formations of all drills and parades, 
and as there was no place in camp to dry anything, 
the young men were compelled to sit around all 
day in their wet clothes, and if they were on guard, 
sleep in them at night. But for all that few colds 
were contracted, and the general health of the 
Corps was better than it had been in barracks, 
out-of-door life and plenty of exercise agreeing 
with every one. 

Among the three cadet corporals retained in 
barracks to look after the welfare of the plebes 
was Jack Stirling, and on the morning the new- 
comers reported he had his hands more than full, 
and felt the same surprise at their “ grossness ” 
and lack of military knowledge that he had 
experienced the year before on first meeting some 
of his own classmates. 

Now he realized that many of the most awkward 
291 


292 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


candidates, and those who had come to West 
Point simply for the educational advantages, 
might develop into the best soldiers before the 
year was over, while even those who had been 
brought up to look on the army in times of peace 
as a drag on the country, a wolf gnawing at her 
very vitals, or a serpent coiled to spring, would 
learn what the service means to the welfare of 
the nation, the defence of the government, and the 
protection of the people’s rights and liberties. 

Like all yearlings, however, the three corporals 
in charge decided at the end of the first day that 
never had such a “ gross ” lot of men reported 
at the Military Academy. As in their own class, 
the candidates were from all grades of society, and 
many of them showed by their manner that they 
looked on the upper classmen as pompous satraps, 
absolutely ignorant of the political situations of 
the day, or the great things the country was 
striving for ; and so tied up in their own red tape 
as to be incapable of human sensibilities, their 
ears deaf to anything but drum beats and bugle 
calls, their eyes blind to all but the glitter of gold 
lace and brass buttons. 

There was one military exception, however, 
to the most unmilitary rule of those reporting, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 293 


and he appeared on the scene almost at the close 
of a long day when the first class officers, their 
nerves worn to a frazzle by dealing with concrete 
stupidity in the raw, had left the ranking corporal 
in charge. For, the opinion of candidates to the 
contrary, knocking a plebe class into shape is not 
the most exhilarating experience of the West 
Point course. 

When the “exception” reported at the in- 
quisitorial chamber in the eighth division, his 
coat buttoned up smartly, his head erect, his eyes 
straight to the front, his little fingers on the 
seams of his trousers as became one in the atti- 
tude of attention, and all this after having com- 
plied with every instruction on the printed slip 
outside the door; not a cadet there but drew 
an inaudible sigh of relief, a relief which grew as 
the “ exception ” answered all questions briefly, 
promptly, and respectfully. 

Well set-up, with a fine carriage of the head and 
shoulders, the youngster presented a splendid 
appearance, despite his small stature, and Stirling, 
wearied from examining much of the raw material 
that had presented itself, looked approvingly on 
this dapper little candidate and asked his name. 

What seemed to be a smile twinkled for a mo- 


294 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


ment in the candidate’s blue eyes, but was gone 
so quickly that no one had an opportunity to 
request him to “ wipe it off,” though the swift 
colour that mounted to the roots of his fair hair 
grew deeper as, bracing still more, he answered 
in deep chest tones: 

“Timothy O’Brien McCarthy Croghan, sir!” 

The acting first sergeant fell back a pace or two 
at this strictly Hibernian collection of names, 
and for all his training could not conceal the de- 
light that shone from his face and trembled in his 
voice. 

“ Are you — do you mean to say — is it possible 
you’re my old friend, Tim Croghan? ” he began, 
and then, not waiting for an answer unless the 
deepening colour on the other’s face and his 
sheepish grin could be called one, he held out 
both hands in greeting, utterly regardless of the 
scandalized faces on every side. 

“ And to think we haven’t met before in nearly 
ten years,” he cried, “ and that you should have 
known me at once, while I didn’t dream it was 
you until you gave your name. How did you ever 
happen to remember me, Tim? What’s that? 
Sergeant Donnelly had shown you my picture, 
and you knew I was one of the cadets in charge of 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 295 


candidates? Why of course, and come to think 
of it, old fellow, you haven’t changed a great deal 
after all, or for the matter of that, grown much 
either,” and as Stirling spoke the bare cadet 
room of the eighth division faded away and he 
seemed to see the little Tim Croghan of long ago 
in his sister’s outgrown dress, and his father’s 
campaign hat, solemnly marching up and down in 
front of the fort on the reservation, while the other 
boys ran off and left him to keep watch alone. 

But Tim’s voice answering a question Jack had 
asked, brought him back to the present with a 
start. 

“ I should have told you I hoped for an ap- 
pointment this year,” he was saying, “ only your 
father and Sergeant Donnelly wanted to surprise 
you, sir, especially on hearing you were in charge 
of candidates. And then too, I really didn’t 
know I’d get the appointment for I was only an 
alternate, but my principal failed and so here I 
am — sir — ” he added the. word with a little 
jerk as if in his joy at meeting Stirling he had 
almost forgotten it. 

Jack laughed in sheer delight at seeing the boy 
again, his little friend Tim, the son of one of the 
finest old sergeants in the cavalry. 


296 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Also he knew that here was material for a cadet 
and gentleman , for unless Tim had changed much 
since, the old days his was a personality as great 
as his stature was small. 

But other candidates were waiting, so the friend 
of Tim’s boyhood became for the moment his com- 
manding officer, quiet and self-contained, asking 
questions very much to the point, and rather dis- 
couraging the other cadets’ insatiable curiosity 
as to Croghan’s antecedents, education, and 
“ former condition of servitude.” At last he 
dismissed him in charge of a dapper yearling 
corporal, who marched him to an area room in 
barracks, where, after a few preliminary instruc- 
tions as to the correct deportment of a candidate, 
he left him to his own thoughts. Judging from 
Croghan’s expression these must have been very 
pleasant, for the boy looked around the bare, 
cheerless room as if he loved it already, and his 
heart was full to bursting that he had made 
the first step on the long road which leads to a 
commission in the regular army. 

That night Jack sent for Tim to come to his 
room and they talked till “ tattoo,” Croghan 
finally leaving the richer for several white belts, 
the traditional trousers which should have 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 297 


fallen to his share being several inches too 
long. 

The other corporals in barracks were somewhat 
scandalized by Jack’s partiality for Croghan, 
and that night, after the candidate’s departure, 
they inquired somewhat sarcastically if Jack 
wished Croghan to be exempt from hazing during 
his plebe camp. 

Jack was properly indignant. 

“ Why, of course I don’t! ” he sputtered. “ No 
one should escape the sort of hazing we give at 
West Point, except a man one wouldn’t associate 
with, and I can’t imagine a worse punishment 
than to be totally ignored in plebe camp.” Then, 
half reflectively: 

“ Did any of you fellows ever see a strange horse 
put into a pasture with a lot of other horses? 
You have, Marr? And you too, Lampton? Well, 
you know then that even among animals those 
longest in the place will try to bluff it over the 
newcomers, just as. in a school or college the 
older men put the younger ones through their 
paces. Now, this has been recognized at West 
Point and taken advantage of by the authorities, 
in that upper classmen are allowed to help train 
the plebes, and it does all good, — teaching the 


298 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


older men authority and the newcomers obedi- 
ence. 

“ As for little Tim Croghan, I’d venture to say 
that he’ll take his instruction in good part, 
though I wouldn’t advise any one to monkey with 
him when it comes to guard duty, Tim having 
strong views on that subject.” 

“ He feels very much as you did last year, eh, 
Jack? ” laughed Lamp ton slyly. 

“Yes, and as I feel this year, too, for in my 
opinion the plebe sentinels should never be 
molested except to teach them the sacredness and 
responsibility of their work.” 

Two weeks later when Tim Croghan marched 
over to camp, in company with a hundred other 
plebes who had not hauled down their colours 
at the preliminary examinations, he found him- 
self in B company, right across the street from 
little Riggs. This young gentleman promptly 
took him in hand, and the plebe fell a willing 
victim to the yearling’s whimsicality, while in 
turn Riggs could not but admire Stirling’s old 
friend, who proved himself as good-natured as he 
was willing and as ready for all the absurd mock 
formations in camp as for the serious work in 
drills. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 299 


There was the usual amount of hazing that 
summer, with the exception of not molesting 
plebes on guard — Stirling’s views being accepted 
by the class — and there was the usual amount 
of trouble for the yearlings because of hazing, 
Doolittle of Kansas, for example, getting his 
furlough cut five days for walking cross-legged at 
battalion drill in order to trip a plebe in the rear 
rank ; while Lamp ton was in arrest several weeks 
for putting fourth classmen through unauthorized 
military evolutions at the unauthorized hour of 
midnight, Old Grizzly being awakened by Lamp- 
ton’s gentle “ Hep! Hep! ” and the crunching 
of gravel under the feet of the luckless plebes. 

Until the arrival of the fourth class in camp, 
guard duty was rather frequent for the upper 
classmen there, the companies being small by 
reason of the men on furlough and the departure 
of the graduates. Three times a week they were 
on guard from nine o’clock one morning until 
nine the next; and how slowly the time passed 
for them walking post, especially at night when, 
tired out, they could scarcely drag one foot after 
the other, the gun over their shoulders seeming to 
weigh tons instead of a few pounds, and bringing 
back vividly U : each of them those nights on guard 


300 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


during the previous summer when they were con- 
stantly on the lookout for mischievous yearlings 
ready to show them how to “ quit ” their post 
before being properly relieved, or “ quit ” their 
piece without explicit orders from some person 
authorized to give them. 

How welcome was the voice of the sentinel 
from the guard-house each hour, proclaiming the 
time of night, this call being taken up successively 
by each sentinel in the numerical order of his post, 
and each ending up with the slightly prolonged, 
“ A-l-l’s Well!” while even more welcome was 
the reveille gun that proclaimed the long night 
was over. 

Little had they realized in barracks, when 
dreaming of the glories of yearling camp, how hard 
it was going to be for them, and that instead 
of the easy time anticipated they w r ould have 
their hands more than full, what with guard duty 
and the inevitable drills, while those in authority 
over plebes found the distinction of being selected 
for such work rather tempered by the tedious 
hours of correcting “ grossness.” For, strange 
as it would have seemed to the plebes, it was no 
easy task to put their awkward squads through 
the severe exercises and drills winch made their 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 301 


lives so miserable, and which a year before these 
same severe young drill masters had stumbled 
through as awkwardly as the awkwardest in their 
own ragged ranks. 

But as the plebe of yesterday looked up to and 
reverenced, or, perhaps, disliked the yearling 
over him, so the present fourth class felt the influ- 
ence of the third class and recognized their power 
to command, while the first classmen ranked in 
their eyes as only a little lower than the Superin- 
tendent or Commandant. This had a stimulating 
effect on all concerned and made camp for the two 
upper classes, even in the most trying circum- 
stances, quite bearable because that peculiar 
element in human nature, love of power, was 
more than satisfied ; the yearling finding it much 
more pleasant to command than be commanded, 
not to mention the greatly increased privileges 
accruing to his position and the delight of being 
accepted as a friend and equal by the first class. 

Twice a week regularly hops were held in the 
Academic Building, and two other evenings were 
given over to band concerts at camp, where soft 
laughter and the rustling of pretty dresses brought 
the first tangible reminder to many a homesick 
yearling of the mother and sisters so far away, 


302 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


for up to June there were few among them who 
had so much as spoken to a worpan since entering 
the Academy the year before. 

Often these girls and their chaperons were 
either friends or relatives of one or other of the 
two classes in camp, and they added the one 
touch of lightness to the soldier’s somewhat re- 
stricted life though, after the monotonous exist- 
ence of the previous year, the third classmen 
found their privileges many, what with rowing on 
the river in the big pontoon boats; swimming 
off a point about a mile and a half up the Hudson ; 
strolls around Flirtation Walk; picnics at Fort 
Putnam; and long climbs to the top of Crow’s 
Nest, all the points of interest off limits for a plebe 
being at their disposal, the previous deprivations 
but making the joys of liberty more keen. 

By the middle of July target practice was in full 
swing, as were also artillery drills, while the danc- 
ing lessons twice a week were not despised as 
much as they had been the year before, now that 
the hop room was at their disposal with all its 
attendant joys. 

Early in August the battery commander took 
the yearling class out three miles in the mountains 
for target practice with the field guns, and what 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 303 


a good time they had riding there, for while the 
caissons and gun-carriages had no springs and 
the roads were rocky and rough, still it was a ride 
and they were off the old limits and amidst new 
and beautiful mountain scenery. 

Arrived at the point selected they unlimbered, 
and soon had the shell and solid shot whizzing 
away at a target, which in the distance looked 
like a white speck on the mountain side. Some 
of the pieces shot with great accuracy, the shells 
seeming to explode right against the target, while 
one projectile caused some alarm by exploding 
at the mouth of the gun, though fortunately the 
flying pieces did no more damage than to cut off 
some tree limbs. 

During the subsequent excitement several of 
the cannoneers, whose posts were not very hard 
to fill, slipped off and foraged an apple orchard, 
so that the way back to camp was beguiled by 
apples, green and ripe, which were hugely enjoyed, 
the officer in command being either very deaf 
or very lenient to the hubbub of good-natured 
chaff at his back. 

Not long before reaching the post, monkey- 
brained Riggs, who as usual was the life of the 
party, came near being the death of it as well, 


304 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


for on passing an old hornet’s nest in the lower 
branches of a tree, he reached up idly with a stick 
and knocked it down, upon which the brave 
cannoneers dismounted and fled before the advanc- 
ing host of the enemy, for the old nest had unfor- 
tunately not been empty, as many a swelling nose 
and eye testified for days to come. Josh Billings 
somewhere says that a well organized onslaught 
of hornets would break up a camp meeting, while 
the yearlings and first classmen on that memorable 
ride could testify that they had seen it break up 
a battery of artillery. 

Returning to camp, Raymond found his tent- 
mate, Jack Stirling, in a state of ecstasy border- 
ing on delirium, for it seemed that in less than a 
week his mother was to visit him at West Point, 
bringing with her the wonderful baby brother 
and a girl from Maryland. 

As Jack read the letter aloud to Raymond, 
not omitting any delicious detail pertaining to 
Samuel Donnelly, Jr., Riggs and Bayard stepped 
in to exhibit their hornet stings, and great was 
the festive Riggs’ joy at the prospect of a new 
girl on the post. But that was the only rose leaf 
under Stirling’s ten feather beds, and he* grumbled 
not a little that as his mother was to be at West 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 305 


Point only a fortnight, he should be obliged to 
have a strange girl on his hands at the same 
time. 

Riggs turned a flip-flap to relieve his over- 
strained feelings. 

“ Just leave her to me,” he chortled, and then 
with a sudden access of gloom: “ That is, unless 
she’s one of these Junoesque creatures like Miss 
Harding that makes a short fellow feel he’s simply 
masquerading as a man.” 

Raymond laughed. 

“ Read what your mother says about her, Jack. 
I should think from the description she was just 
about Riggs’ size.” 

Jack obediently unfolded the long, closely 
written letter, and tearing his eyes away from 
all the home news, he read aloud : 

“ I have about decided to take a girl with me 
to West Point, Jack. You know her well by 
reputation, of course, for she’s that Miss Carroll 
Carr of 'Maryland who has been so much in the 
public eye since her brilliant debut last winter.” 

Jack looked up from the letter long enough to 
remark that if the girl were a Maryland Carroll 


306 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


or Carr, she was pretty sure to be in the society 
columns from one year’s end to the other, and 
then resuming: 

“ I met her as she was passing through Leaven- 
worth last winter on her way to the Pacific Coast, 
and when I mentioned having a son at West Point, 
— and I find I mention it very frequently, Jack — 
she spoke up and said, ‘ Oh, Mrs. Stirling, if you 
should visit there next summer, wouldn’t you let 
me tag along if only for a week? * Well, Jack, 
when a Dresden Shepherdess, modernized by 
Worth into the most bewitching creature you ever 
laid your eyes on, begs to be allowed to tag along, 
it’s not for an old woman like me to refuse. So I 
said I should be delighted, and I’m sure you will 
be, too, for it’s no mean honour to introduce a. girl 
like Carroll Carr to your classmates. Ana, by 
the way, you might as well let it be generally 
understood in the Corps that, to paraphrase 
Mrs. Browning in ‘ Aurora Leigh,’ her stock- 
ings are no bluer than her eyes! ” 

Riggs laughed appreciatively. 

“ What a clever way of saying she isn’t any too 
bright! ” And then he half -hummed, half-chanted 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 307 


a song prevalent among his cronies just then, 
Riggs himself being responsible for the words: 

“ * She isn’t very clever, she isn’t very wise, 

But when a girl has dimples and bits of Heaven for eyes, 
And hair like sunshine gleaming and voice both sweet 
and low, 

A little bit of nothing is all she needs to know ! ’ 

“ Anyway, I like your mother’s description, 
Jack. What was it? A Dresden Shepherdess 
modernized by Worth? Of course that means 
she’s little, doesn’t it? For whoever heard of a 
Dresden Shepherdess towering over the head of a 
fellow like some of these girls up here this summer. 
I tell you it takes the pride out of a man to be al- 
ways looking up at a girl, instead of down at her 
in the protecting way that makes you and Ray- 
mond and Bayard so deadly attractive to the 
4 femmes.’ ” At which they all laughed up- 
roariously, the three boys being the “ bachelors ” 
of the class, Jack and Raymond, in spite of their 
chevrons, cutting hops shamefully, while poor 
Bayard had never scraped up courage to go, after 
his accident at the graduation ball. 

Like wild-fire the news spread through camp 
that Stirling’s mother was coming to West Point 
the following week, bringing with her a Miss Carr 


308 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


of Maryland. The Miss Carr, Riggs said, and 
further described her as a belle and a beauty, 
whereupon Jack found her card for the hops 
very easy to make out, the haughty first classmen 
themselves condescending to ask for dances, and 
rather intimating that Stirling should give them 
precedence in the matter over his own class. 



CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE 

Even Bartholomew Bayard shared in the 
general anticipation though, poor, homesick boy, 
he was more anxious to see Jack’s mother than 
Miss Carr, and on the afternoon of their expected 
arrival at the Point he walked past the Com- 
mandant’s quarters, not once but thrice, in a vain 
effort to catch even a glimpse of Mrs. Stirling 
and the baby, rejoicing with Jack that they were 
to be with him for a whole fortnight and yet 
half envying him the while. 

On his fourth approach to the big house Bay- 
ard’s heart gave a sudden leap into his throat, 
for there in the doorway stood Jack’s mother. 
She was a little woman, but carried herself so well 
that it gave her the appearance of being taller 
than she really was, while crisp gray hair made 
her rosy face even younger looking by contrast. 
Clinging to her skirt was a baby boy whom Bayard 
recognized instantly from his resemblance to Jack. 

As the big third classman passed the house, 
309 


310 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Samuel Donnelly, Jr., saluted in the way Donnelly 
Sr., had taught him, and held out two fat arms 
in Bayard’s direction with a coaxing “ Jack, 
Jack! ” every big, gray-coated figure spelling 
Brother Jack to Sammy, Jr., brought up as he 
had been on Jack’s cadet photographs. 

In response to the little lady’s amused smile, 
Bayard dragged off his cap and wished in his 
heart that he had courage enough to go up the 
steps and welcome Mrs. Stirling to the Point. But 
he kept doggedly on his way to the Library, 
trying to turn a deaf ear to the childish treble 
that still pleaded to his unresponsive back, an 
agony of homesickness sweeping over him at the 
pretty picture the two had made framed in the 
old-fashioned doorway. 

How friendly Jack’s mother had looked as she 
stood there with the curly-headed boy clinging 
to her skirts. How willing to welcome a classmate 
of her son’s. How gracious and matronly and 
sweet, everything that an ideal mother should be. 
It was evident they were waiting for Jack to re- 
turn from drill, as the little lady was both gloved 
and bonneted for a walk, while Sammy wore a 
stiffly starched bonnet that framed his angelic 
face like a millinery halo. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 311 


Over in camp the drums announced recall from 
drill, and Bayard could picture Jack tearing 
across the parade ground to join his mother and 
Sammy on a walk around Flirtation, or for a climb 
up to old Fort Putnam. 

He felt suddenly very much alone in the world, 
for on every side with the first tap of the drum, 
gray-coated figures joined waiting mothers, sisters, 
or friends, and under parasols of all sorts and con- 
ditions couples strolled here and there until another 
drum should rattle off first call for parade, and 
put an end to their pleasant intercourse. Nearing 
the Library, Bayard turned again toward the 
Superintendent's, and could just make out the 
two figures still waiting there for Jack. He 
wondered what was keeping the boy, and remem- 
bering Sammy’s pleading voice he started toward 
camp to hurry Jack up, half running that no time 
should be lost. 

Reaching the visitors’ seats he slowed down a 
bit, for there standing by the guard tent, his back 
towards Bayard, was Jack himself. Bayard 
started to call to him, then stopped short with 
astonishment, for by Jack’s side was a girl, a 
slip of a girl barely reaching to his shoulder, 
a girl with flushed cheeks, a tiny tip-tilted nose, 


312 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


and wonderful gray eyes shaded by the longest 
of black lashes. She had a brilliant little face 
that sparkled and glowed as she talked, and when 
she suddenly laughed aloud Bayard thought he 
had never heard anything half so merry, and 
smiled a bit himself in sudden sympathy. 

Stirling, all devotion, was holding a fluffy 
parasol over the pretty girl’s head, and she was 
directing him as to the proper angle at which it 
should be held, stopping several times to greet 
different third classmen who rushed up to speak 
to her before hurrying away on some previous 
engagement. 

Bayard thought that in all his life he had never 
seen any one half so merry or so kind or so sweet. 
He knew at once that it must be the Miss Carr 
who had come to West Point with Jack’s mother, 
and he was glad that Jack had insisted on putting 
his name down for a dance at the next hop. It 
seemed incredible now that he had contemplated 
“ cutting ” the hop by going to the hospital, that 
he might not have to take those two dances with 
Miss Carr, for never in his life had he seen any one 
in the least like her. 

It was not only that she was prettier than any 
girl on the post, she was different, and every one 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 313 


who came within the radius of her personality 
seemed influenced by it. 

Well poised and confident in her own manner, 
she seemed to have the gift of imparting these 
qualities to others, and Bayard saw with surprise 
how even some of the quieter men of the class 
waxed eloquent under the friendliness of her smile. 
As he watched her talking now to this man, now 
to that, he longed to be one of the group and a 
strange new confidence in himself made his heart 
beat rapidly. For the first time in his life he had 
a belief in his own abilities, a feeling of power 
and courage, and was sure that in talking to this 
girl he could bring forth out of his treasures 
things new and old, like the Biblical householder 
instructed unto the Kingdom of Heaven. 

But here his conjectures were cut short by the 
appearance of little Lampton, who brushed by 
him almost rudely. Joining the group around 
Stirling and the girl, Lampton, who had evidently 
met Miss Carr earlier in the day, greeted her with 
his most studied bow. Then turning to Jack with 
a care-worn expression, he said in his languid 
way: 

“ Do you know, Stirling, old fellow, I’ve got 
my engagements most hopelessly tangled and 


314 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


am not at all sure whether my walk with Miss 
Carr is from now till parade, or not until release 
from quarters this evening.’ * 

The girl and Jack exchanged an amused look 
which only Bayard intercepted, as the other 
men had taken themselves off one by one, on the 
unpopular’s Lampton’s arrival. 

“ Not being a Delphic Oracle,” Jack had 
laughed, “ I’m not at all sure about your walk, 
Lampton ! I only know this is my walk with Miss 
Carr, and that I’ve found it hard to choose between 
such a very attractive mother and very attractive 
girl,” and he blushed a little as he caught Miss 
Carr’s eye. 

The young woman laughed prettily, but lowered 
herself somewhat in Bayard’s opinion by a half 
mocking speech to the effect that Stirling ought 
not to compare his mother with a girl barely out 
of her teens. 

It was not so much what she said as the way 
she said it and, in spite of himself, Bayard winced 
at the tone, a sudden memory coming to him of 
Mrs. Stirling and little Sammy waiting on the 
Commandant’s veranda while Jack piloted pretty 
Miss Carr around the post. 

But Jack, oblivious alike of the girl’s banter 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 315 


and Bayard’s secret resentment, was suggesting 
to Lampton that since he was mixed in his en- 
gagements anyway, he might as well take Jack’s 
mother around Flirtation. It seems she was as 
keen to see it as any girl, for Jack’s father had 
proposed to her there and she had been planning 
a pilgrimage to the spot for years. 

The elegant Mr. Lampton wriggled uncomfort- 
ably, but Stirling, accustomed as he was to his 
mother’s assured position at Western posts, and 
feeling only the honour he was conferring on 
Lampton by allowing him to escort her, went 
on cheerfully. 

“ And be sure to let her tell you the story of the 
bell button she wears as a watch charm, Lampton, 
and please ask to see father’s picture as a first 
classman in the back of her watch, and above all 
things, show her Gee’s Point. It was at Gee’s 
Point she won her famous victory! ” 

The girl laughed lightly. 

“ What a disrespectful young man you are! ” 
she said. 

Bayard felt the tone a flippant one, but his 
indignation at Jack and Miss Carr was swallowed 
up in a greater rage at the elegant Lampton who, 
pleading multifarious duties as an excuse for not 


316 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


escorting Jack’s mother around Flirtation, took 
himself off, leaving Jack speechless with wrath 
and the girl quite as speechless with laughter. 

“ Oh, dear,” she whispered wickedly when she 
could get her breath, “ To think that your mother 
should have been inspected and condemned her 
very first day on the post! ” 

“Yes, and by such a little pipsqueak as that,” 
thought Bayard wrathfully, and forgetting his 
agony of shyness he went toward Stirling and 
the girl and, cap in hand, bowed awkwardly. 

“ I couldn’t help overhearing your talk with 
Lamp ton,” he began, “ and if you’ll allow me, 
Jack, I should be pleased to escort your mother 
around Flirtation while you take your walk with 
Miss Carr.” 

The girl flashed an approving look in Bayard’s 
direction and extended a slender gloved hand in 
greeting. 

“ Isn’t this Mr. Bayard? ” she asked, her gray 
eyes smiling so frankly into his that for a moment 
he forgot his disapproval of her. 

“ I knew you at once,” she went on in an un- 
conventional way, much as one nice boy might 
speak to another, “ for I’ve seen the class pictures, 
and all morning it’s been like greeting photographs 
suddenly come to life! ” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 317 


Bayard blushed way down under his collar 
and moved uneasily from one foot to the other. 
He was alive to the necessity of taking Jack’s 
mother around Flirtation, but he was also under 
the spell of a pair of gray eyes that grew steadily 
warmer as they read his honest face aright. 

He felt he had been mistaken in the girl. She 
had not meant to be flippant at the expense of 
Mrs. Stirling. She had not intended to speak 
of her lightly. She was young and thoughtless. 
That was all. But even as Bayard made excuses 
for her in his heart she turned to Jack, still nursing 
his wrath at Lampton, and with a merry glance 
into his brooding face began : 

‘‘You silly boy to take things so to heart! 
Why, I, for one, don’t blame Mr. Lampton a bit. 
If I were a corporal in yearling camp I’d draw 
the line myself at ‘ dragging ’ an old woman 
around that romantic walk with a whole post full 
of pretty girls to choose from.” 

“ Old woman, indeed! ” blazed Jack suddenly, 
but before he could continue, Bayard, white to 
the lips with indignation, cut in with a frigid: 

“ If you’ll excuse me, Miss Carr, I’ll go for 
Jack’s mother at once. I noticed her waiting for 
some one at the Commandant’s as I came along, 


318 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


and — and I don’t think there’s a man in the class 
that wouldn’t be proud to escort her anywhere 
in the world! ” with which he turned on his heel, 
after sweeping them a bow to rival Lamptons’ 
own. 

For a moment there was silence, then Jack 
burst into sudden uncontrollable laughter, but 
the girl, flushing all over her pretty face, ran for- 
ward and laid a detaining hand on Bayard’s arm. 

“ I know now why the class calls you Chevalier 
Bayard,” she said softly, and the clear gray eyes 
reflected something nearer akin to admiration 
than Bayard had ever seen before in any eyes. 

“ The little lady on the Commandant’s veranda 
is not Mrs. Stirling,” the girl went on, “ but only 
another guest of the Commandant’s wife and I — 
I am not Miss Carr! ” 

Bayard stared at her incredulously. Not Miss 
Carr? Then who under the sun was she? Jack’s 
sister? No, he didn’t have a sister, and yet — 
and yet there was something singularly like Jack 
about her brow and eyes. 

Suddenly he realized that this must be Jack’s 
mother, and the absurdity of his mistake filled 
him with unavailing wrath at his own awkward 
blundering. Would he never, never learn better? 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 319 


Would he always be the impulsive Chevalier 
Bayard of the class, the butt of all their jokes, 
a Don Quixote fighting a windmill? 

But the slim little hand on his arm brought him 
back to the present with a start. What was Mrs. 
Stirling saying? That he had paid her a pretty 
compliment by mistaking her for a girl? That he 
had shown true chivalry towards that absent 
woman he had thought was being spoken of slight- 
ingly? That Jack’s mother was proud to have 
him numbered among Jack’s friends, and that she 
hoped she might count him one of her own friends 
as well? 

It was intoxicating to the lonely boy, and as he 
held the little hand for one moment in his own 
he felt she knew his longings to better himself 
and the struggles he had undergone. Had she not 
said in all seriousness that now she realized 
why they called him the Chevalier Bayard of the 
class? And she wasn’t joking either! She didn’t 
even seem to know he had been called it in derision. 

Again he looked into the sweet face raised to his, 
and this time he noticed there were faint lines 
around the gray eyes, while the brown-gold hair 
showed a sprinkling of silver in the high lights. 
Her colouring, too, was a shade less brilliant 


320 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


than he. had thought it from a distance, all of 
which appealed to Bayard more than her sup- 
posed youth could ever have appealed. He was 
glad she was not a girl, but a woman old enough to 
be his mother, older, it might be, than his own 
mother, who was already wrinkled, gray, and 
stooped from her hard life on the farm. 

Of a sudden Bayard felt at ease. He seemed 
to forget the length of his arms and legs, 
and the awful fact that he still “ gobbled ” as he 
talked, and an hour later when they returned 
from their walk around Flirtation, Bayard was 
holding the fluffy parasol; not at the correct 
angle, to be sure, but still holding it, and Mrs. 
Stirling was laughing appreciatively at a story 
he was telling at his own expense, one of the 
numberless instances of his “ grossness ” that first 
summer in camp, and he told it with the air of a 
man sure of himself at last. 

But Bayard was not the only classmate that 
fell a victim to Mrs. Stirling’s undoubted charm, 
for within the fortnight the whole Corps w r as at 
her feet, the most blundering man in it surprising 
not only his friends but himself by the ease and 
fluency of his conversation when with her; while 
even little Lampton lost some of his superiority 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 321 


in her presence, and actually 'forgot at times to 
hold himself in unnatural attitudes that his 
chevrons might show to the best advantage. 

Seeking only the good in those around her, 
Jack’s mother found no evil in any one, her very 
trust in people making them live up to it. With 
Robert Louis Stevenson she believed that we were 
not put in the world to make our neighbour good 
but to be good ourselves, our duty to the neigh- 
bour being to make him happy, if possible; and 
by hugging close her illusions as to people and 
things she accomplished more than did many a 
long-faced moralist with a “ passion for interfer- 
ence with others.” Moreover, she even succeeded 
in keeping on good terms with herself, quoting 
one of Sergeant Donnelly’s favourite truisms to 
the effect that “ If you ain’t friends with yourself, 
how can you hope to be friends with anybody 
else? ” 

On one of their long walks together during that 
blissful fortnight, Jack unburdened his heart as 
to his bitter disappointment in young Winthrop, 
with all the little details that go to make up a 
boy’s first glimpse of an idol’s clay feet, and the 
agony he had suffered in standing by what he 
thought was right in the face of their friendship 
for each other. 


322 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Mrs. Stirling listened, in a sympathetic silence 
that meant more than words, until the last drop 
of bitterness had been spilled from the cup, that 
distrust he had unconsciously felt for every one 
since finding Winthrop false, that half -formed 
suspicion that perhaps others in the Corps were 
as unworthy of confidence. 

Then, and only then, Mrs. Stirling spoke, 
leaning slightly on Jack’s arm to emphasize her 
remarks : 

“ Do you know, son, I have found that a belief 
in people is something like giving in charity. One 
hates awfully to be taken in by an unscrupulous 
beggar, but, after all, it’s better to give ten times 
where it isn’t deserved than to have refused once 
where it should have been given.” 

They were climbing up to Fort Putnam at the 
time, but Jack stopped short in the dusty road 
and looked into his mother’s eyes. 

‘‘You mean, it’s better to be mistaken in the 
goodness of some one, than ever to misjudge a 
person worthy of confidence? ” he asked 
softly. 

Mrs. Stirling smiled. 

“ That’s exactly it, for at least thinking a person 
is better than he is doesn’t make him any worse, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 323 


dear, and — ” her voice dropped lower on the 
thought — “it might help make him better! 

“ Take young Winthrop, for example. Do you 
think for one moment he was hurt by your trust 
in him? No, Jack, he was helped by it, and though 
for a time he may have played on what he was 
pleased to consider your credulity, at the last 
it brought him to a realization of what truth and 
honour and courage mean. Mark my words, Jack, 
we shall yet hear great things of Winthrop, and 
you will live to be proud of your misplaced con- 
fidence in him, for you must remember he need 
not have told you anything that awful day in 
barracks. A silence may be as lying as words, 
and you would never have been the wiser.” 

Jack’s arm trembled a bit and his mother went 
on softly: 

“ I know you’ve suffered, boy, but think how 
much greater his regret has been at losing your 
belief in him. As he himself said, Jack, that day 
in barracks, he is no more liable to deceit now than 
is any one in the Corps, and while I recognize 
that in the circumstances he could not have re- 
mained here longer, still I think he needs your 
friendship more than he ever did, and that he 
has proved himself worthy of it, poor motherless 
boy! ” 


324 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


The last phrase brought a sudden lump to 
Jack’s throat, and he pressed his mother’s arm 
even closer to his side, though all he said was: 

“ I’ll answer his last letter this evening, mother. 
I should have done it before, but someway I 
couldn’t, and the longer I waited the harder it 
seemed to write.” 

Mrs. Stirling’s eyes smiled up into Jack’s. 

“ You’ll feel better, boy, when the letter’s 
posted,” she said quietly. 



CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO 


Meanwhile the Dresden Shepherdess had taken 
West Point by storm. Even in the memory of 
Professors’ Row there had never been such a belle 
on the post as Miss Carr of Maryland, and quite 
contrary to West Point custom, she scorned the 
ready made hop cards and not only had to divide 
her dances and walks, but her concert nights as 
well; so that wherever one saw a group of gray 
coats gathered especially thick, it was safe to 
surmise that Miss Carroll Carr was the centre 
of attraction. 

Every morning, accompanied by Marie Harding, 
who was also spending a few days at the Com- 
mandant’s, Miss Carr fluttered over to camp in 
the Frenchiest of French frocks and the frilliest 
of parasols, her cheeks flushed with excitement, 
her wonderful blue eyes resting now on this man, 
now on that, but always with the half -frightened, 
childlike, appealing look that made them so 
charming, the dark sweeping lashes ready to 
325 


326 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


screen them from sight at any moment, the dark 
pencilled brows ever arched in a perpetual surprise 
above their unclouded depths. 

She was so little and helpless, so deliciously 
stupid and confiding, so sure of the infallibility 
of any one wearing the West Point uniform, that 
before the first day was over she had almost the 
entire third class in subjection; for after twelve 
months of plebedom the yearlings found it de- 
lightful to be looked up to by any one, especially 
by the prettiest girl on the post. 

With breathless attention Miss Carr listened 
to the more than twice-told tale of why molasses 
was called Sammy; and she knew as well as any 
cadet in the Corps that jellies and blanc-mange 
were always referred to as Felix in the Mess Hall, 
because of an oft repeated sermon by the Chaplain 
in which he spoke of the fact that “ Felix 
trembled ” before the righteousness of Paul. 
Moreover she accepted as serious titles the dis- 
respectful abbreviations of “ Supe ” and “ Com ” 
and “ Tac,” always speaking of the officers 
thus quite openly and without shame. In her 
guileless way she intimated that the word “ year- 
lings ” made her think of calves, and then apolo- 
gized for the inappropriateness of her remark with 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 327 


such sweet contrition that even the hardest- 
hearted third classman could not have taken 
offence. 

Every night at parade she squealed when the 
gun went off, and every morning at guard mount- 
ing protested that the cadet officers were rude 
to snatch the rifles away from the poor privates 
as they did, and further averred that if she had 
the choosing of colour sentinels she’d always 
pick out the handsomest men irrespective of 
whether their equipment was up to the mark or 
not. 

Her first morning in camp she was properly 
horrified at how hard they all had to work, and 
opened her big eyes sympathetically when she 
finally understood that the cadets really had to 
live in those little tents all summer long whether 
it rained or not. And she thought it ridiculous 
that the authorities should make them drill in 
the warm weather, though she supposed on aw- 
fully hot days they were excused from doing 
anything. And she wondered how they ever 
managed to keep so spick and span without valets 
to dress them, though she had been told that each 
man had a plebe trained up to do such things 
for him. 


328 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


And weren’t the plebes good in their squad 
drills? And didn’t the Corps look “ cunning ” 
walking to and from the Mess Hall, keeping such 
wonderful step — she didn’t see how they’d ever 
learned to do it. Why, it was so even that 
sometimes when they marched by at parade, their 
white trousers and black shoes looked exactly 
like piano keys going up and down, especially 
if you watched them through your lashes — so! 

On first meeting Riggsandhearinghim addressed 
as B. J., she asked what the initials stood for, 
and Riggs, turning, looked at her sharply, but 
detecting no malice in the soft eyes raised to his 
he had answered mendaciously: 

“ B. J.? Why, Benjamin Joseph, of course — 
Biblical names, you know! ” and Miss Carr 
believed him, thereafter addressing many per- 
fumed, ill-spelled little notes to Mr. Benjamin 
Joseph Riggs, to that gentleman’s huge disgust 
and the Corps’ uproarious delight. 

But Carroll Carr was gullible enough to please 
any right-minded yearling, and the amount of 
misinformation she assimilated during that fort- 
night was incredible. Rumour had it she even 
believed the old, old story, told by generations 
of cadets, that the huge cannon-ball resting on a 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 329 


stump at Trophy Point had originally been a 
grape shot fired during Revolutionary times 
into a slender sapling, and that as the tree grew 
the shot waxed larger and larger until at last, 
a full grown cannon-ball, it split the tree in two. 
She had also been led to believe that there was a 
study in the course called the Calculus of Flirta- 
tion, written by the professor of Matrimonial 
Engineering, while from something Mr. Benjamin 
Joseph Riggs had said she was equally certain 
that a prodigious number of men were found de- 
ficient in dancing every year and dismissed from 
the Academy. 

Naturally Mr. Riggs was the girl’s especial 
cavalier from the start, and to his own great satis- 
faction he had made her believe that chevrons 
were worn in turn by each man in the class, and 
that until the week before he had been acting 
sergeant major just as Jack Stirling was doing now. 
Likewise he gave her to understand that he could 
easily have stood one in the class, but that out 
of friendship for those below him he had let him- 
self go down, section by section, until at last he 
stood at the foot of the “ Immortals,” a living 
monument to the love he bore his fellows. 

At which, according to this young Ananias, 


330 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Miss Carr declared that his sacrifice was “ too 
sweet for anything,” and that she hoped they’d 
appoint him a major-general the minute he gradu- 
ated. In fact, if he liked, she’d speak to her uncle 
about it. He held some high position in Washing- 
ton, she wasn’t quite sure whether it was a mem- 
ber of the Cabinet, a Judge of the Supreme Bench, 
a Senator, or a Representative. But anyway it 
was a position that gave him a good deal of in- 
fluence, and she would see that he used it to the 
advantage of a man who had immolated himself 
on the altar of friendship. 

“ I’ll wager she didn’t say * immolated,’ ” 
one of the men put in at this point of Riggs’ 
narrative. But it seems she had, explaining later 
that she had found the expression in a book she 
was reading, and while she wasn’t quite sure 
what it meant, still it had such a nice sound 
that she was going to use it whenever she 
could. 

Also it seems that on their many walks around 
Flirtation, Riggs had fallen into the habit of 
spouting French verbs to Miss Carr, telling her he 
was quoting love poems from Victor Hugo. And 
she had blushed and sighed in that adorable way 
of hers, pretending to understand what he 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 331 


quoted, till little Riggs had all but expired from 
suppressed mirth. 

“ Mr. Riggs is so intellectual,” she gushed to 
Raymond her last day on the Point, “ and I 
dearly love an intellectual man, even though I’m 
nothing but a poor little society butterfly myself.” 
Here the blue eyes appealed to Raymond’s for 
a compliment, but the boy returned the look with 
one so honest and puzzled that in spite of herself 
Carroll Carr blushed. 

“You don’t like me, Mr. Raymond,” she 
pouted. 

“ I don’t understand you,” he confessed. “I’ve 
been brought up with girls at home, five sisters 
and numberless cousins, to the third and fourth 
degree, but I’ve never met a girl in the least like 
you.” 

Again the self-possessed Miss Carroll blushed. 

“ That might be a compliment,” she hazarded. 

“ It might be,” returned Raymond gravely. 

Miss Carroll had a slight lisp and now it was 
accentuated. 

“ Why don’t you say right out that it isn’t 
a compliment? ” she stormed, and before Raymond 
could answer: “ I know you think I’m an awful 
ignoramus. Mrs. Stirling has told me what clever 


332 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


sisters you have — college graduates and all 
that — but you should realize that every woman 
can’t be strong-minded and — and short-haired, 
Mr. Raymond.” 

The boy was studying her lovely face. He 
remembered that Jack had said she ought to be 
framed and hung on a wall, for when she opened 
her mouth the charm vanished. And yet she 
didn’t look like a stupid girl to him for all her 
stupid ways. Often, indeed, her simplicity struck 
him as calculated, the height of sophistication, 
and more than once he had wondered if she 
were quite genuine in her ingenuousness. That 
baby stare, for example, was absurdly out of 
place in a girl of her age, and more than once 
he had seemed to catch a glint of mischief in 
the demurely lowered eyes, though when she 
raised them again they would be as childlike as 
ever. 

Embarrassed by the continued silence, Miss 
Carr shook out a fluffy pink parasol and held 
it to screen her face from Raymond’s level gaze. 

“You stare so,” she scolded. “ It makes me 
feel that at any moment you’ll start me off with 
a ‘ Hep, Hep,’ the way you do those poor plebes 
at squad drill,” and as she said it her cheeks were 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 333 


pinker than even the rose-coloured lining would 
have warranted. 

Moreover she ceased chattering for the rest of 
the walk, and poor Raymond mopped his brow 
after saying good bye to her a half hour later at 
the Commandant’s gate, for from that time on 
it had taken a conversational derrick to drag up 
even monosyllabic remarks from the depths of her 
vast ignorance. 

Behind the curtains of an upper window Mrs. 
Stirling and the Commandant’s wife watched the 
girl as she slowly mounted the steps, her cheeks 
still flushed, her eyes shining. 

“ I can’t believe she’s really the Carroll Carr 
I’ve heard so much about,” mused the Comman- 
dant’s wife. “ Even your letters describing her 
didn’t half prepare me for such a beauty. She’s 
the most exquisite bit of flesh and blood I ever 
saw.” 

“ I know it,” agreed Mrs. Stirling. “I’ve often 
told Carroll that it’s really bad form to be so con- 
spicuously good looking.” 

“ And hasn’t she taken well? ” pursued the 
older woman. 

Mrs. Stirling laughed. 

“You wouldn’t have thought so if you had 


334 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


been at guard-mounting this morning. You see, 
I wanted Jack to show Carroll some little atten- 
tion before she left, and so suggested that he 
have a bell button gilded for her. 

“ Well, he was so anxious to do right that he 
not only had it gilded, but engraved with her 
monogram and the date. I was delighted when 
he showed it to me, for it looked as if he were really 
waking up to his social duties at last. But, my 
dear, how do you suppose he presented it? By 
taking Carroll around Flirtation in the con- 
ventional manner? No, indeed! He jerked it out 
of the front of his coat before a group of young 
people at guard-mounting, with a careless: 

“ * Oh, by the way, Miss Carr, mother thought 
you’d like some little souvenir of your visit to 
West Point, and asked me to give you this.’ ” 

The Commandant’s wife shook with silent 
laughter. 

“ Of course it’s all my own fault,” Mrs. Stirling 
accused herself, “ for not having insisted on more 
dancing school when Jack was a little chap in 
Montana. But he was so keen for out-of-door 
sports that I hadn’t the heart to coop him up 
every Saturday afternoon.” 

“Yet you wouldn’t care to have him too much 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 335 


the other way,” suggested the Commandant’s wife, 
“ like little Lampton of his class, for example.” 

“ No,” admitted Mrs. Stirling reluctantly, 
41 1 shouldn’t like him to pattern after Lampton, 
but I do wish he’d take the same intelligent in- 
terest in girls that he does — well, say in guns! ” 
and Mrs. Stirling wrinkled up her nose in the most 
engaging way. 

The Commandant’s wife laughed in sudden 
sympathy. 

“ He seems to get along very well with Marie 
Harding, doesn’t he? ” she hazarded. 

“ Oh, Marie could get along with any one,” 
declared Mrs. Stirling. “ She’s a good comrade 
with all the class, and is as direct in her methods 
as Jack himself.” 

That Miss Carroll’s indirect methods were even 
more successful than Miss Harding’s direct ones 
might have been seen that night at the band con- 
cert by the most casual observer, for the Balti- 
more belle had so many yearlings in attendance 
that most of the other girls had to content them- 
selves with mere first classmen. 

On their return to the Commandant’s quarters, 
Mrs. Stirling turned to her hostess with a depre- 
cating little laugh: 


336 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ Carroll’s really too absurd,” she began. “ I 
ought to have stopped her in the beginning, but 
you saw how it was! ” 

The Commandant’s wife shrugged her plump 
shoulders. 

“ Miss Carr doesn’t throw her pebbles straight 
enough to hurt the frogs much,” she returned 
enigmatically. 

“ And knowing her ought to be a liberal 
education for any yearling! ” ventured Mrs. 
Stirling. 

Just then the girls appeared in the doorway, 
and both women looked up approvingly at the 
picture they made ; the one tall, slender, straight, 
with direct brown eyes and a high colour; the other 
made up of snow and sunshine, the faint tints 
of dawn, and the cloudless blue of noonday. 

“ Well, Carroll,” asked Mrs. Stirling, watching 
the girl’s animated face with an amused expression, 
“ and how did you enjoy your last evening at 
West Point? ” 

“ It couldn’t have been lovelier,” Miss Can- 
breathed ecstatically. “ That big, round, red 
moon gave an almost theatrical touch to the 
whole scene.” 

Marie Harding smiled. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 337 


“Yes, it might almost have been a masquerade 
or a fancy dress ball,” she said. 

Miss Carr looked up at her companion quickly. 

“ Why — what do you mean? ” she stammered, 
the rose in her cheeks flaming to damask. 

“ Oh, nothing,” answered Miss Harding inno- 
cently, “ except that with the theatrical looking 
moon, the band playing sentimental airs, the brass 
buttons, and the pretty gowns it reminded me 
somewhat of the proper setting for a masquerade.” 

Mrs. Stirling laughed outright. 

“ Marie has always been somewhat bookish in 
her tastes, Carroll,” she said meaningly, at which 
the tint in Miss Carr’s cheeks deepened still more, 
while Marie and the Commandant’s wife broke 
into a peal of laughter as merry as Mrs. Stirling’s 
own. 

For a moment Miss Carr looked from one to the 
other, with childlike, questioning eyes. Then she, 
too, laughed though a bit unwillingly. 

“ How long have you known? ” she gasped 
when she could get her breath. 

“ From the very first! ” crowed Marie, whereat 
they laughed again, an explanation to the mystery 
being found in a letter received by Jack the next 
week, for after giving him the latest news as to her 


338 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


own well-being and the baby’s, Mrs. Stirling went 
on to say: 

“ Tell Teddy Riggs for me to treasure all those 
misspelled little notes from Carroll Carr, that 
young person’s autograph having some value in 
the literary market, for since the tremendous suc- 
cess of her remarkable book ‘ The Gospel of De- 
cadence ’ — a book that is being translated into 
both French and German, and which I am free 
to confess is much too deep for me — she has 
become quite an international character. 

“You remember, Jack, I told you in the letter 
announcing our coming that Miss Carr’s name 
had been before the public very much since her 
debut last winter — meaning, naturally, her liter- 
ary debut , for I supposed you had read of her 
triumphs, not remembering at the time that 
cadets have little or no opportunity to see more 
than the headlines of the daily papers. 

“ But as you may imagine, to a girl who has 
been led to believe by both her publishers and the 
press that her name was a household word on 
two continents, it was quite a shock to find no 
one here had so much as heard of her; except 
Teddy Riggs, who, I believe, at their first meeting 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 339 

said something about her being a great belle in 
Baltimore, and that he had been told by you 
the papers were full of her goings and com- 
ings. 

“ At first she was scandalized by what she was 
pleased to consider the shocking illiteracy of the 
Corps. But after talking over the course with one 
or two of the professors she agreed that the 
literary side of it had to be somewhat neglected, 
considering the short space of time allowed for 
academic work; the training of soldiers not 
involving the study of dead languages or the polite 
literature of the day, however desirable such 
things might be in addition to the compulsory 
scientific and military work. 

“ But being a woman, she took her revenge 
by playing the rdle she did, and as she was always 
given ingenue parts in college by reason of her 
baby face, she had small trouble hoodwinking the 
class, though from the first she was afraid of John 
Raymond’s keen, analytical mind. The rest of 
you, she says, were ‘ easy,’ and I’m sure she 
enjoyed her little masquerade to the utmost, 
especially with Teddy Riggs, though she begs 
me to tell him that the next time he pretends to 
quote French love poems to a girl, he must be sure 


340 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


she doesn’t know the verbs rapidly spoken as well 
as he does.” 

Before drill that morning the Corps was notified 
as to the contents of Mrs. Stirling’s letter, and for 
a week thereafter the old librarian found a certain 
heavy sociologic treatise in great demand among 
the cadets, little dreaming that it bore on its 
ponderous back the name signed to so many 
ill-spelled notes received that fortnight in camp. 

But Riggs, while dumbfounded, was not cast 
down and straightway sent a little verse to Miss 
Carr, which he signed Benjamin Joseph Riggs. 
It read: 

“ She is a College maid and knows full well 
Her ’ologies and ’isms. She can tell 
Of pterodactyls, rhizopods, and such 
Unchristian, creepy, palaeozoic things; 

The moons of Jupiter, and Saturn’s rings — 

And what she doesn’t know is not worth much. 
Her formulae and coefficients dry, 

Her chemical reactions, and her high 
And psychologic microcosm wise, 

Make me rejoice her clever head is gold, 

Her clever lips are red, — when all is told 
‘ Her stockings are not bluer than her eyes.’ ” 


CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE 


On the twenty-eighth of August the furlough- 
men returned to the Academy, coming up on the 
day boat together. According to the old custom, 
on arriving at the top of the hill they formed a line 
in front of the Chapel and Library, while the first 
and third classes gathered on the south side of 
camp, having put in permits beforehand to cross 
sentinel's post Number Six, to meet the returning 
furloughmen. 

There was a moment of intense excitement. 
Then at a given signal the youngsters rushed for 
each other, meeting in the middle of the cavalry 
plain, the furloughmen in their civilian clothes, 
the first and third class in their natty uniforms, 
all shouting and howling in the good old fashion. 
Now they tossed their caps and hats in the air, 
now flung valises, suit cases, sticks and umbrellas 
on the ground ; wrestling, tumbling, pounding and 
hugging each other like so many young cubs. 
In a breath questions were asked and answered, 

civilian get-ups were admired or laughed at, some 
341 


342 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


too pretentious hat was crushed in or one of 
ancient vintage pulled down over its owner’s 
ears, and other jokes were perpetrated, allowable 
only between the best of friends. 

After every one was thoroughly exhausted they 
all went over to camp, the furloughman to report 
their return and “ jump ” the plebes for the rest 
of the day, when they were not otherwise engaged 
in looking up various friends on the post, or in 
telling the first and third classes about their good 
times at home. 

That night there was a hop in the Academic 
Building, second only in importance to the gradu- 
ation hop, and the next morning camp broke to 
the tearful regret of the “ summer girls,” although, 
as a rule, the cadets were as glad to get back to 
barracks at the end of the season as they had been 
glad to leave it in the beginning. 

All morning there was a great hubbub in the 
canvas city, men rushing back and forth, giving 
orders or obeying them, white trousers twinkling 
in and out of tent doors, while gray uniformed 
arms, both with and without chevrons, carried 
luggage of all kinds here, there, and everywhere, 
straggling across the cavalry plain like so many 
gray and white ants moving from one hill to 
another. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 343 


At ten o'clock the visitors’ seats, and every 
available bit of space around them, were crowded 
with officers and their families, people staying at 
the hotel, pretty girls and staid chaperons, chil- 
dren and nurses, civilians from Highland Falls, 
and soldiers from the barracks, all waiting to see 
the breaking up of camp. 

At last the call sounded: 

“ Don’t you hear the General say, 

* Strike your tents and march away? 9 ” 

at which the cadets all sprang to the side of their 
respective tents, some holding the loosened tent 
ropes, others waiting to catch the tent pole as it 
fell. 

Then came a breathless silence, followed by a 
sudden tap on the drum. Down fell the ropes. 
Another tap, and the tent itself collapsed, to be 
held in place around the upright pole. Still 
another, and the camp was a thing of the past, the 
ground where it had stood through the long, 
hot summer being covered by a sudden snow of 
canvas. 

Then the band struck up an inspiring air and 
the Corps, headed by the Commandant himself, 
swung back to barracks in column of platoons. 


344 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


To the intense delight of Jack and Raymond, 
they were allowed to choose quarters in the old 
familiar eighth division, and this time not one 
of the undesirable “ plain rooms ” that, with their 
northern exposure, are so cold in winter; but 
one from whose western window the hills heavily 
wooded with pine rose steeply, and where old 
Fort Putnam could be sedn crumbling to ruins 
on the summit of one of them. 

If Stirling’s former room, with the glories of 
sunrise in view, had cultivated a sense of the 
beautiful, this western one developed a spirit 
of patriotism, looking out as it did on those hills 
so full of Revolutionary history, which reminded 
him daily of the stirring scenes that had been 
enacted there so short a time before. 

Across the hall Tim Croghan and two class- 
mates swept, dusted, and put their cheerless 
quarters in apple-pie order, grumbling a bit as 
through the open door they saw the pampered 
yearlings tacking up turkey-red curtains at alcoves, 
clothes-press, window, and gun-racks, the effect 
being really palatial when compared with the 
plebes’ bare room. 

That Tim Croghan was now in Jack’s company 
was a source of great satisfaction both to himself 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 345 


and to Stirling, though the fourth class, to a man, 
declared that Tim’s gain of an inch in height 
during plebe camp was due to a bump on his 
head, the boy having knocked it regularly all 
summer with that end in view. However this 
may be, it was an undisputed fact that Croghan 
had not only gained ten pounds in weight since 
his entrance to the Academy, but that he had 
shot up an inch as w r ell, so that he was now an 
exact five feet seven, which made him available 
either as a short man in the flank companies 
or a tall one in the centre. And when he once 
realized this, perhaps no one in the Corps made 
as much of his inches as did the erstwhile 
“ Tiny Tim,” who almost walked on tiptoe that 
he might live near his old friend in barracks. 

To little Tim Croghan, Jack Stirling was the 
embodiment of all the military virtues and he 
longed to be like him in every particular. But 
for the matter of that, the whole plebe class 
admired Stirling with a fervour that bordered on 
adoration, for Jack was sociable by nature and 
rather inclined to accept people at a little more 
than their own estimate of themselves, while his 
room-mate being more acute in his perceptions, 
had fewer friends — and better ones — his instinct 


346 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


for choosing the right sort of companions being 
little less than a sixth sense. 

But perhaps Stirling’s blind trust in people, 
coupled with his singleness of heart, accomplished 
more towards the general betterment of mankind 
than did Raymond’s critical attitude. For, as 
Riggs once said, a fellow really felt obliged to live 
up to Stirling’s opinion of him, and before he 
realized it, had become so pleased with himself 
in the role assigned him that he forgot his original 
part entirely. 

Without in the least “ boning ” popularity, 
Jack Stirling attained it in spite of himself, his 
fearlessness and honesty being an inspiration to 
the plebes, his good comradeship a thing to strive 
for among the yearlings, while the upper classmen 
looked on him as one of the finest fellows in the 
Corps, and as sure of being made first captain or 
cadet adjutant his last year at West Point as 
that he was now the ranking corporal of the third 
class. 

All through his plebe camp little Croghan had 
carried water for Riggs and Gronna, feeling it a 
privilege to act as special dutyman for the 
friends of Jack Stirling, so long as he could not 
serve Jack himself in that capacity. But now that 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 347 


he was back in barracks, he meant to utilize every 
opportunity to wait on Stirling in the same way, 
despite the fact that on leaving camp such duties 
were no longer required of plebes ; for in the first 
ardour of his hero worship little Croghan longed 
to serve the corporal in whatever way he could. 

So on the first morning of the Corps’ return 
to barracks, when he chanced to see Stirling’s 
water bucket outside the door he gladly carried it, 
in addition to his own, down to the hydrant in the 
area, and after filling the two staggered up the 
long flight of stairs with them, intent only on 
how to accept Stirling’s profuse thanks with 
becoming modesty. 

But to Croghan ’s surprise, Raymond, who 
was room orderly for the day, met him at the door 
with a look that suggested anything but gratitude, 
and in a voice half snarl, half sneer, he began : 

“ Put that bucket down instantly, Mr. Croghan, 
and don’t you try bootlicking us again by carry- 
ing up our water. I tell you once for all that the 
Corps won’t stand anything of the kind. You’re 
a cadet and a gentleman, sir, now that plebe camp 
is over, and I don’t want to hear of your ever doing 
such a despicable thing again as to try to curry 
favour with upper classmen — ” But here Jack, 


348 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


well lathered for his morning shave, interrupted 
with a curt: 

“ That’s all right, Raymond. I know Mr. 
Croghan well enough to be sure he had no intention 
of carrying the water for ‘ bootlicking ’ purposes.’ * 
And turning to him he went on in a lower tone: 
“ But in the future, old fellow, remember that all 
such services came to an end with your plebe 
camp and squad drill. The last tap of the drum 
that brought your tent to the ground yesterday 
morning raised you from a plebe to a fourth class- 
man, and you’re no more expected to fetch and 
carry now than would be a gentleman of the first 
class.” 

Tim trembled a bit at Stirling’s earnestness 
and, very red, started to explain his motive in 
carrying up the water, but Jack interrupted with 
a good-natured : 

“ Oh, I know exactly why you did it, Croghan, 
but if we hadn’t been such old friends I might 
have misunderstood just as Mr. Raymond did.” 
Then more kindly still: “ And I’m sure we both 
appreciate the feeling that prompted you to wait 
on us, and — and if you have any trouble in this 
year’s course just feel you can call on Mr. Raymond 
and me for help, not that either of us came out 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 349 


so very high in anything last June, but at least 
we passed, and I’m sure we can help you do the 
same.” And then to little Tim’s undying joy, 
the grave, stem, dignified Raymond not only 
seconded Jack’s hearty invitation, but added an 
apology for his haste in imputing unworthy 
motives to Mr. Croghan. 

So Tim, proud and happy, returned to his 
room where he completed his toilet and 44 police ” 
work, tearing down the stairs as “ Assembly ” 
sounded, and out to the area, where he tumbled 
into ranks, answering 44 Here! ” to his name on 
the roll with a new vim, as became one who had 
put behind him plebe camp and all that it meant 
of irritating subordination, that caricature of 
discipline which, after all, helped make compre- 
hensible to many the real discipline, the real 
subordination, which otherwise might have seemed 
arbitrary and artificial. 

For the first time the true meaning of life at 
the Academy was brought home to Tim Croghan ; 
for the first time he realized that it was not the 
boy soldiering of his old Montana days, but the 
beginning of his career as an officer in the army, 
and as the Corps marched to the Mess Hall 
his heart swelled within him at the thought 


350 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


that he was an integral part of that splendid 
whole. 

There is a well known saying at the Academy 
that yearling September is the hardest month 
in the whole course, and it must be admitted that 
both Raymond and Stirling found it more difficult 
than anything they had yet encountered in their 
cadet life. 

“ Reveille ” sounded on the stroke of six, and at 
half after six they were expected to be in the 
Mess Hall for breakfast, with police work and 
sick call sandwiched between. From seven to a 
quarter of eight came guard-mounting, followed 
by the academic “ grind ” of the day. Four hours 
they spent in recitatioh, and as much again was 
allowed for studying which, considering the length 
and difficulty of the lessons, was not half enough. 
So they took to “ running lights ” after “ Taps,” 
“ cutting ” meals, and going without all but 
compulsory exercise to get even a fair idea of 
what was expected of them in the section room. 

In topographical and map outline drawing, 
Stirling and Raymond did exceptionally well, 
and with Stirling to help him in French, Raymond 
found the plays and difficult selections of the year 
really interesting, and to his intense delight 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 351 


gradually worked up to the fifth section therein. 
Even this section he soon ranked, as was seen on 
the bulletin board many a Saturday afternoon, 
so that in the event of any one transferring down, 
Raymond would inevitably have secured his scalp. 

In like manner, the Missourian drew Stirling 
up to his own section in Mathematics, and at the 
end of a hard week’s work the room-mates found 
themselves rewarded by good average grades. 
Nothing startling, perhaps, but still good enough 
to insure their holding their own as the class waded 
through formula upon formula in Analytical 
Geometry, and piled equation upon equation of 
curves, parabolas, hyperbolas, and ellipses, these 
depending upon equations that started way back 
in Algebra and rolled along through Geometry, 
Trigonometry, and Analytics. Every day the 
tide rose higher and higher, until those who had 
not grown strong in breasting the current found 
themselves swept off their feet, to be entirely 
submerged at the dreaded January examination. 

At first Jack and Raymond did their work 
without enthusiasm, drudging at. it night and day 
until, to their surprise, the drudgery changed to 
interest and they experienced the joy of wresting 
success from seeming failure. Fortunately, too, 


352 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


their instructor in Mathematics had all the re- 
quirements of a good teacher, realizing that edu- 
cation, like charity, means to show one how to help 
himself, how to increase his own resources, how 
to awaken initiative that the pupil may become 
self-active, rather than dependent upon others. 
He knew instinctively that each member of the 
section must work out his own mental problem, 
that individual effort meant the ultimate efficiency 
of the whole, for a good instructor is a John the 
Baptist preparing the way for one greater than 
himself, the pupil’s awakened understanding of 
his own powers and faculties. This had always 
been the policy of the professor of Mathematics, 
and in Lieutenant Hamilton he found an able 
assistant who encouraged original thinking and 
quickened even the dullest men to unsuspected 
mental alertness. 

French also proved efficient in sharpening their 
wits, while Drawing was a welcome relaxation 
from the more strenuous academic work and 
still more strenuous drills. Except for the dinner 
formation at twelve o’clock a claustral hush hung 
over cadet barracks from eight in the morning until 
four in the afternoon, broken only by the bugles 
calling sections to and from the Academic Build- 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 353 


ing, its clear notes being followed by the measured 
tramp of feet on the area and low-voiced com- 
mands from this or that section marcher. 

At a quarter past four the scholars were meta- 
morphosed into soldiers, and despite the intense 
heat of early September they marched out to 
battalion drill, buttoned up to their chins in heavy 
dress-coats, for it was an unheard of privilege 
in those days to wear shell jackets for drilling, 
much less the sensible gray flannel shirt of the 
present time. Soldiers must be made to feel 
their uniforms, and the cadets were certain that 
if barbed wire collars could have been substituted 
for white ones the authorities would have been 
overjoyed. 

For an hour and a half they drilled on the dusty 
plain, after which they had barely time to change 
wilted linen, polish their boots, and brush their 
coats before they were again in ranks for evening 
parade, the gray and white uniforms looking most 
attractive as the Corps swept across the green- 
sward to the stirring music of the band. 





CHAPTER TWENTY - FOUR 


In those days the Kinsley apple orchard was 
off cadet limits, in consequence of which it was 
considered no mean achievement every fall to 
raid it, armed with pillow cases in which to carry 
back to barracks the miserable, wormy little 
apples that grew there; while now that it is on 
limits the apples wither and decay for want of 
any one to gather them. 

It was Thomas Hughes, I think, who moralized 
on the question as to why a well brought up boy, 
who would not think of stealing apples from a 
green grocer’s shop would unhesitatingly gather 
them from somebody’s orchard, the ethical aspect 
of the case seeming to be entirely changed by the 
fact that in one instance the apples were growing 
on trees, and in the other were lying on somebody’s 
counter. However that may be, every fall cadets 
were put in arrest for raiding the orchard, chevrons 
were lost, and tours walked, all for the sake of 
a hapdful of fruit barely worth the picking. 

“ I’ve no doubt the apple Eve gave Adam in 
364 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 355 


the Garden of Eden came originally from Kinsley’s 
orchard,” Riggs said one Saturday afternoon as 
he watched a number of classmates walking the 
area, “ though how anybody could run the risk of 
getting extra tours or losing chevrons for such 
miserable, wormy trash is quite beyond me.” 
Then the look came into his face that his friends 
had learned to know — and dread a little — a 
look of impish inspiration that boded trouble, 
as he went on : 

“ Now there’s a tree in the Supe’s front yard 
that’s worth taking risks for, and this very night 
I purpose and intend to drag back some of the 
apples growing there for a midnight feast!” 
And sure enough, despite the protest of his friends, 
Riggs, the intrepid, walked boldly into the Super- 
intendent’s yard that night after inspection of 
quarters, stripping the royal apple tree without 
getting “ hived ” by even the bull-dog, a ferocious 
beast that seemed to regard cadets as his natural 
enemy. 

Later a few congenial souls gathered in Riggs’ 
room to enjoy the feast, and as usual wherever 
Riggs was, the noise waxed fast and furious, grow- 
ing to such an uproar by midnight that the sub- 
division inspector howled out an expostulating, 


356 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ Stop that noise, you fellows on the third floor! ” 

For the space of at least ten minutes this warn- 
ing was effectual. Then the noise broke out 
again, louder than ever, the shouts of laughter 
floating across the area to the guard-house where 
even the officer in charge, who was a very heavy 
sleeper, wakened, and jumping into his clothes, 
bounded up the stairs, three steps at a time. 
But fortunately he was also heavy on his feet, 
and Lampton’s quick ear heard him coming 
in time to gather the uneaten apples into a pillow- 
slip and lower them by a cord from the window, 
while other men attended to the lights, and saw 
that no tell-tale evidences of the feast remained 
around the room. 

Those who lived in adjoining quarters slipped 
into them quietly, but there was no escape for 
Lampton and Doolittle, who belonged in the eighth 
division, nor in that bare room was there any place 
of concealment. Suddenly Lampton solved the 
problem by slipping into his overcoat, turning the 
cape up around his head, and hanging by his hands 
from a convenient hook in the alcove, thus con- 
verting himself for the time being into a cadet 
overcoat and pair of trousers, for in the dim light 
of the bull’s-eye lantern the protruding feet would 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 357 


remain unnoticed. In a moment Doolittle had 
followed Lampton’s example, and being smaller 
he looked even more like an overcoat than did 
the originator of the scheme. 

It was all done so quickly that before the tacti- 
cal officer reached the door everything was in 
order, and the two occupants of the room were in 
bed, shoes and all, the covers drawn up close 
around them, while in the alcove two gray over- 
coats hung close together, their wearers shaking 
with laughter at the rather obvious snores which 
greeted the sudden flash of the dark lantern in 
Riggs’ face. 

Satisfied that this room at least was safe, the 
unpopular Adonis continued his inspection of that 
division, and on his speedy return to the guard- 
house, the four men remaining, of the ten who 
had gathered for the feast, crept softly across the 
board floor, which in spite of their care creaked 
harshly under them. 

A moment later Lampton proceeded to pull 
the pillow-case with its precious burden back into 
the room. As he did this his face took on a puzzled 
look, which in a moment melted to a sheepish grin, 
for the case was empty save for a pencilled note 
which he read aloud: 


358 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


“ Dear Riggs and Gronna : — If Adonis hives 
you, you’ll have no appetite for apples, and if he 
doesn’t hive you, the escape will be so narrow 
that you’ll be more than willing to share the fruit 
with your friends on the floor below.” 

And sad to relate, this remarkable effusion was 
signed by some first classmen whose names were 
the synonym for dignity and chivalry throughout 
the Corps. 

As riding was to begin in a week or so, the second 
classmen, following a long established custom, 
tried to frighten the yearlings by making them 
think they would barely escape with their lives 
in the Riding Hall, though the second classmen 
themselves were so out of practice that it was 
almost as hard for them as for the yearlings and 
fully as conducive to lameness. 

But the warnings of the older men struck 
terror to the hearts of yearlings, unaccustomed 
to horses, so that the very act of trying on their 
riding breeches and jackets filled them with awe, 
the “ Tac ” who inspected them seeming like an 
officer of the Inquisition fitting them to their 
grave clothes. 

“I’m not a bit afraid of being hurt,” Raymond 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 359 


said somewhat regretfully to his room-mate on 
first inspecting his togs, “ but I do so hate to get 
up there and make a show of myself.’' 

Jack swept his friend with the eyes of a cavalry- 
man. 

“ You’ll be one of the best riders in the class,” 
he returned shortly, “ for you’ve got the long 
legs and the wiry, strong body that will give you 
the firm* seat necessary almost from the start. 
And as for the rest of it — well, Donnelly used to 
say that a good trooper ought to be as strong in 
character as in muscle, for a horse knows when he 
has to deal with a rider that has the perseverance, 
pluck, and patience to control him. In fact, for 
all your inexperience, I give you just six weeks 
to be head over heels in love with riding, Mizzoo.” 

“ Head over heels on the tan bark, you mean,” 
laughed Raymond, and then impulsively: “Oh, 
Jack, if I ever can learn to ride I mean to take 
cavalry on graduation, for little as I know of 
army life, it still seems to me the only branch 
of the service worth striving for.” 

Jack was silent a moment, and when he spoke 
his voice had an odd little ring to it. 

“ I always thought that myself, Raymond, 
until this summer. You remember I talked it 


360 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


a lot last year, even going so far as to state that I 
wouldn’t accept any other branch? ” 

Raymond nodded. 

“ Well, in yearling camp I confided something 
of the kind to mother, and she replied by saying 
that father wants me to try for the engineers 
or artillery, and that if on graduating high enough 
for either of those branches I still want cavalry, 
well and good, but that at least he wants me to 
have my choice. 

“ Later in answer to a letter of mine on the 
subject, father wrote and said that in his opinion 
it was just as narrow for an army officer to arro- 
gate all the good in the service to a certain branch, 
as it was un-American for a citizen of the United 
States to interest himself only in the North or the 
South or the East or the West ; meaning, I suppose, 
that a good American doesn’t confine himself to 
any one section or state, but works for the good 
of the United States .” 

Raymond looked up gravely. 

“ How West Point broadens a fellow in respect 
to his country,” he mused. 4 4 Why, Jack, when I 
came here I was so southern in all my traditions 
that I actually resented rooming with a Yankee, 
and even thought the northern and eastern year- 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 361 


lings were more surly and gruff in their manner 
than those from the South or West. Now some 
of my best friends in the Corps are real ‘ down 
easters,’ and I see that a man isn’t necessarily 
a good fellow because he happens to come from 
below the Mason and Dixon line.” 

“ I suppose that’s just what father means about 
the army,” Jack answered, “ and that an officer, 
whatever his branch, should work for the good of 
the service. He’s delighted, too, that our rooming 
together has meant my standing so well in ‘ Math ’ 
this year, for if I only keep it up I may get a 
whack at artillery after all, especially as the 
scientific work next winter is along my lines 
of least resistance. Of course, up to the time 
I came to West Point, the cavalry meant army 
to me, as we’d never served with any other troops, 
and even yet I must confess to a great hankering 
for the crossed sabres, yellow stripes, and yellow 
plumes ; but I shall do as father says, that is, try 
for the engineers or artillery and then make my 
choice.” 

“ Well, I’d be willing to bet on the crossed 
sabres against the engineers’ castle,” laughed 
Raymond as he and Jack joined the other members 
of the Dialectic Society in an informal Saturday 
night meeting. 


362 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


As usual this was more social in its nature than 
literary, though an outsider would have been sur- 
prised to see how well some of the men did with 
so little time for preparation ; many a mathemati- 
cal “ goat,” destined to be found deficient before 
the June of graduation, covering himself with 
a too ephemeral glory. For, as happened each 
year, the Dialectic Society was speedily offered 
up on the altar of necessity, the West Point of those 
days being farther from the 'world’ s doings than 
it is now. 

Indeed, few men in the Corps had even time 
to read the daily papers, while the camps, the 
many drills, and the riding hall experiences re- 
placed the athletics of other schools. But in 
spite of this lack of valorous intercollegiate rivalry, 
the life at West Point was not without interest, 
the very fight for standing in the section room 
having its romantic side, while no crack players on 
the modem football eleven or baseball nine are 
more looked up to than were the men wearing 
chevrons in those old days. 

The next afternoon riding began, and the first 
half of the class, a bit self-conscious in their 
new clothes, marched down to the Riding Hall, 
the galleries of which were already filled with 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 363 


interested spectators, who watched the men 
standing in line and tried to deduce from their 
expressions which were used to riding and which 
were not. 

Little Lampton was most impatient to begin, and 
so self-confident that he had no qualms what- 
soever, deceiving even the instructor by his swag- 
gering manner. 

“ It’s only a question of sticking on,” he informed 
Raymond in a whispered aside. “ There’s not a bit 
of skill required! ” But a moment later the horse 
he had mounted put his head down and his heels 
up, whereupon the over confident Lampton, to 
his own great surprise, was precipitated on the 
tan bark. 

He was sure the trouble was all with the horse, 
and proceeded to inform the instructor of this 
interesting fact, but he was soon silenced and 
performed the rest of the ride clinging perilously 
to the horse’s mane whenever the instructor 
turned his eyes the other way. 

As for Raymond, he took his riding as hard as 
he took everything else, but stuck to his mount 
with characteristic calmness though every jolt 
threatened to unseat him. Just ahead of Ray- 
mond rode the boy from Kalamazoo, vainly 


364 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


striving to hold his fiery steed in check by thun- 
derous “ whoas ” that called down upon him 
the scornful wrath of the trim young instructor. 

By the irony of fate, Jack Stirling, who had 
been used to horses from childhood up, drew 
the first steed of the lot and sat it in a way to 
make the discouraged instructor draw a breath 
of relief. Here, at least, was no tyro, and soon 
Jack found himself at the head of the long line, 
his horse prancing and curvetting as if he, too, 
realized that he was carrying a rider worthy of 
the best horse in stables. 

As trotting seemed to be the normal gait even 
at the first lesson, most of the yearlings spent 
as much time in the air and on the tan bark 
as they did astride their respective horses, but 
as they rode with a blanket only, there was 
no danger of dragging from stirrups, while the 
tan bark was soft enough to prevent any greater 
casualty than stiff muscles or a general soreness 
of frame, due as much to the rough riding as to 
the tumbles. At every lesson the galleries of the 
Riding Hall were filled, and frequent bursts of 
laughter would greet some awkward tumble. 
Occasionally a youngster, losing control of his 
horse and getting frightened, would clutch at the 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 365 


poor beast’s mane, or, grabbing at his neck, go 
flying round and round the hall followed by the 
delighted shouts of the crowds in the gallery. 

Strange to say, mounting and dismounting at 
a gallop, hard as it seems to an onlooker, was 
soon mastered by the class, and few among the 
yearlings but learned to like riding in spite of the 
hard work it entailed, and the occasional misfor- 
tune of getting some razor-backed vicious animal. 
In a very few lessons tumbles were the exception 
and not the rule, while even the most awkward 
yearling soon attained a surprising degree of 
efficiency in handling his horse, Raymond, in 
particular, being a star performer to Jack’s ill- 
concealed delight. 

In December, hurdle jumping added an intoxi- 
cating element of danger to the rides, and as the 
tan bark in the hall froze and became dry it 
covered the men with a fine dust that made them 
almost unrecognizable at the end of the hour. 
About this time saddles and curb bits made the 
mounting and dismounting at a gallop more 
difficult, and in addition the yearlings had learned 
to pick up their caps and gloves from the ground 
when going at full speed, all of which made the 
rides seem very reckless to an onlooker. 


CHAPTER TWENTY - FIVE 

Up to the middle of December dress parade 
was happening with distressing regularity, in- 
creasing the cadets’ chances for demerits and tak- 
ing a half hour’s freedom from them daily, but 
at last the long expected snow came, covering 
the ground three inches deep with a good prospect 
for more. 

Such a shout as went up from barracks as the 
first snow of the season fell, but when a brilliantly 
clear night succeeded the stormy afternoon, 
and the sound of sleigh bells and merry laughter 
floated back on the crisp air, it seemed to bring* 
their monotonous existence into anything but 
pleasant relief. For with the coming of winter 
West Point was as dull as could possibly be im- 
agined, with nothing whatever to distract the 
cadets from one Saturday night to another. 

Having so little interruption one would imagine 
that the average man ought to have stood very 
well in his work, but the weekly marks did not 

indicate any great amount of progress for most 
366 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 367 


of the class, and it must be confessed that never 
in the history of West Point did the Corps have 
such a shaking up as at that January examination. 
Two second classmen were found deficient, and 
twenty of the third class, a most unprecedented 
occurrence, while as usual the plebes were heavy 
losers, thirty out of a class of a hundred being 
discharged. 

Of the yearlings, four were given turnbacks 
to the plebe class, a bitter alternative to leaving 
the Academy altogether with failure writ large 
upon one, meaning as it did the postponement of 
furlough and graduation a whole year, beside the 
mortification of dropping back into plebedom 
again, and into the old humdrum of the same 
studies, not to mention giving up the class fellow- 
ship so dear to the heart of every cadet. Alto- 
gether it was equivalent to losing a year of life, 
said the turnbacks, but in every instance they 
accepted their fate gratefully, rejoicing that they 
were given yet another chance to prove their 
worthiness to wear the West Point gray. 

As three of the turnbacks were corporals, the 
third class privates began “ boning ” the lost 
chevrons, the smallest part of the glory conferred 
by those strips of gold braid being the wearer's 


368 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


exemption from sentinel duty and extra tours, 
for to all beholders they meant that the men 
wearing them were entitled to command, and in 
most instances that they had won this distinction 
by sheer force of character. 

Among the turnbacks to the fourth class was 
little Lamp ton, the brilliant scholar of the winter 
before when all had been a review for him, the 
strutting corporal of yearling camp, a corporal 
who would have been the last man in the class to 
recognize that he really owed his chevrons to the 
good fortune of having roomed with methodical 
old Raymond the previous year, as otherwise his 
lack of neatness and military precision would have 
cost him unnumbered demerits his week on as 
room orderly. 

Back in the fourth class again, Lamp ton went 
to the first section in everything, a somewhat 
chastened Lampton with a little less belief in his 
own abilities and a dull wonder at the mental ex- 
ploits of plodding old Mizzoo, who had so far out- 
distanced him that second year at the Academy. 
Also Lampton had the poor satisfaction of hearing 
the despised Bayard of the year before answer 
to the name of Corporal Bayard at roll call, and 
saw him trotting around with conspicuously 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 369 


bright chevrons on his sleeve, chevrons which in 
the natural order of things should merge them- 
selves into the stripes of a sergeant next June, 
and which by rights should have been Lampton’s, 
except for what he was pleased to characterize 
as the unjust discrimination of the Academic 
Board. 

Examinations over, the inevitable Saturday 
night “ sworrys ” in barracks were resumed. 
These were not of the “ biled mutton ” variety so 
dear to the heart of Sam Weller, as refreshments 
were necessarily restricted to such things as could 
be cooked over a gas jet in quarters, but delightful 
“ sworrys ” nevertheless, Riggs and Gronna 
achieving fame over their culinary exploits. 

There were Saturday night concerts, too, oc- 
casional lectures in the Mess Hall or Library, 
occasional hops in the Academic Building, and 
many informal dinners with garrison friends, 
the professors and their wives entertaining those 
among the cadets whom they came to know per- 
sonally, as did the different married instructors, 
so that Saturday night passed very pleasantly 
for the yearlings, forming a marked contrast to the 
dull week-ends of the previous winter. 

Among those who entertained frequently was 


370 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Mizzoo’s Ogre, and strange to say the gruff, 
taciturn quartermaster proved the j oiliest sort 
of host, though often after inviting his guests he 
would be called to New York on important busi- 
ness ; whereupon a brief note informed the young 
gentlemen that Major Cramer’s quarters were 
at their disposition during his enforced absence 
and that he hoped they would make themselves 
quite at home there. 

This the young gentlemen always proceeded to 
do with great enthusiasm, and as the Ogre had a 
most estimable Chinese cook, who also acted in the 
capacity of butler, they straightway loosened 
their tight dress-coats the better to enjoy them- 
selves, and after dinner gathered around the Ogre’s 
piano to sing themselves hoarse, quite unconscious 
that Ah Lee watched them admiringly the while 
through a chink in the pantry door, and all week 
went about his work humming snatches of “ For 
he’s a jolly good fellow,” to the Ogre’s vast amuse- 
ment. 

The Commandant also entertained Jack and 
his particular cronies very often that winter, 
and once a month a batch of yearlings dined in 
state — and alphabetical order — at the Super- 
intendent's. It was always a gloomy dinner, 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 371 


the guests feeling somewhat like “ undertakers 
hired to mourn over the — birds in the dishes,” 
and once outside the gate, after shaking the great 
man’s limp hand at departure, they would in- 
variably run a race back to barracks simply to get 
thawed out. 

One Saturday evening late in February, when 
Stirling and Raymond were giving an unusually 
gay chafing dish supper to those of their cronies 
who were not attending the hop in the Academic 
Building, Connelly of the second class burst in at 
the door, a crumpled newspaper in his hand, his 
eyes bright with excitement. 

“ I say,” he began impetuously, “ have you 
fellows heard about Tom Winthrop? ” 

Jack, paled. What had happened to Tom? 
Was he ill ? Had he been injured ? Was he dying ? 
Was he dead ? Or, more dreadful still, had the 
old lack of honour cropped out again and made 
him do something disreputable? 

Jack put the thought aside fiercely. No, no, 
that couldn’t be. And yet why didn’t Connelly 
go on and say what had happened? Why was 
he keeping them all in suspense? 

Jack stirred impatiently and tried to speak, 
but the words stuck in his throat, and of a sudden 


372 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


his heart went to beating so loudly that he felt 
the others must hear it, too. 

Then from what seemed an immeasurable dis- 
tance somebody spoke: 

“ Well, what’s Tom been doing, Connelly? ” 

“ Oh, nothing much,” returned the other with 
great impressiveness as he shook out the paper 
he held in his hand, “ only West Point training 
is in the lime-light now, all owing to Thomas 
W. Winthrop. Then, too, I wanted your opinion 
on this as a work of art! ” 

At the rustling of the paper Jack glanced up, 
and there was Tom looking at him gravely from 
the first page of an evening journal noted for its 
yellowness. The picture was smeared with 
printer’s ink, but still recognizable, and in large 
letters under it Jack’s startled eyes made out 
these words: 

“ SON OF THE SECRETARY OF STATE 
SAVES AN UNKNOWN BEGGAR 
ON BROADWAY 

PLUCKY ACT ALMOST COSTS HIS LIFE ” 

Jack rubbed his eyes with a shaking hand and 
looked again. The mist suddenly cleared away. 
His friend Tom had done nothing disgraceful. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 373 


He had been splendidly brave — courageous .... 
The men were all praising him, even Riggs and 
Gronna. Ah, if Tom could only hear them .... 

But what else did the paper say? He remem- 
bered now. The plucky act had almost cost Tom’s 
life. With a great effort Stirling spoke : 

“ Is — is Winthrop badly hurt? ” he faltered. 

“ Hurt enough to be laid up in the hospital,” 
returned Connelly, swelling with importance at 
the reception of his news. “ It seems he saw a 
beggar in danger from a runaway horse attached 
to a hansom cab, and though he managed to get 
the beggar — a feeble old woman — out of the 
way just in time, the horse knocked him down 
and trampled on him. The paper says it was the 
nerviest sort of rescue and that several men, who 
were nearer to the scene of the accident than 
young Winthrop and yet did nothing to save the 
woman, were hissed by the crowd that collected 
to see poor Tom carried off in the ambulance. 
They say when he opened his eyes after the opera- 
tion, that he mumbled something or other about 
‘ honour ; * but he went nutty again and they 
don’t know whether he’ll pull through or not! ” 

With an inarticulate cry Jack snatched the 
paper out of Connelly’s hand. Again Tom’s 


374 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


brave eyes looked straight into his just as they 
had looked that awful day when he finally agreed 
to leave the Academy. It was a cadet picture, 
taken the spring before, and the sight of the uni- 
form brought another lump to Jack’s throat. 
Connelly said Tom had mumbled something 
about honour in his delirium — dear old Tom — 
dear old Tom — 

Jack looked up with swimming eyes to meet 
Raymond’s quivering attempt at consolation. 
Then they both broke down, but fortunately the 
other men had left the room. 



CHAPTER TWENTY -SIX 

By “ Tattoo ” the news had spread through 
barracks that Tom Winthrop, at the risk of his 
own life, had dragged a beggar from under the 
very feet of a runaway horse on Broadway; and 
as the morning papers announced that his recovery 
was only a matter of time the class breathed again. 

A nice fellow, Winthrop! A little obstreperous 
during the first six months at the Academy, per- 
haps, but still a nice fellow. That affair in plebe 
camp? Well, Faulkner might have been mistaken, 
you know! In fact he must have been, for Win- 
throp was cleared at the subsequent court-martial 
and then, too, hadn’t Jack Stirling stood by him 
from the beginning? And every one knew that 
Stirling wouldn’t have countenanced anything of 
the kind for a moment. 

But what about Riggs and Gronna? Stubborn, 
that was all. Government mules were yielding 
creatures compared with them! And anyway, 

what was their influence pitted against that of 
375 


376 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


men like Stirling, Raymond, sober old Bayard, 
and a score of others? 

No, there was not the slightest possible doubt 
but that Tom Winthrop had been horribly mis- 
judged, and the only way to make up for it in the 
slightest degree was to ask him to the furlough 
dinner in New York. So in due time Tom, swathed 
in bandages, read the letter signed by all but two 
of the class, and weak as he was the tears welled 
up in his eyes and come near rolling down his 
thin cheeks. 

How grateful he felt that they should have 
remembered him, and how he longed to see them 
all again. At first he felt he could not accept their 
hospitality under false pretences, for he was sure 
that if they knew what Stirling knew they would 
not have invited him. The doctor said he needed 
a change of air, and that could be his excuse. 

Then he read the invitation again and weakened. 
After all, why shouldn’t he accept? Come to 
think of it, in Jack’s last letter he had said that 
he wished Winthrop would spend graduation 
week at the Point, as he was sure that his old 
room-mate had enough friends in the Corps to 
make his stay a pleasant one. If Jack thought 
him worthy to go back to the Point on a visit, he 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 377 


would also think him worthy of attending the 
furlough dinner, especially now that the whole 
class, with but two exceptions, had extended the 
invitation. So, fortifying himself with yet another 
perusal of the note, already grown flimsy from 
much reading, Winthrop determined to accept 
their hospitality. 

As class secretary, Raymond had written the 
invitation. It was a typical boy’s letter, hearty 
and running over with good wishes for Winthrop’s 
speedy recovery, and further characterized by 
a masculine aversion for heroics or sentiment of 
any kind. In fact, there was no reference made 
to the accident, beyond Raymond saying that the 
class regretted Winthrop was laid up for repairs, 
and that it hoped he would be well enough to join 
them at the furlough dinner on June fourteenth. 

After deciding to accept the invitation, Win- 
throp lay for a long time staring up at the bare 
ceiling above his bandaged head, and his thoughts 
must have been very pleasant to judge from his 
expression. At last he rang for the nurse. 

White-capped and smiling she appeared. 

Winthrop smiled back at her. 

“ I want to write a letter,” he began. 

“You mean you want me to write it for you,” 


378 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


she returned, her wholesome middle-aged face 
beaming with good humour. 

Winthrop twisted his unbandaged right hand 
around tentatively. 

“ No, I think I can do it myself,” he answered, 
and then for fear she would think him ungrateful : 
“You see, it’s in answer to a letter from my class 
at West Point asking me to the furlough dinner 
and — ” 

“ And you think they’d rather have a personal 
letter than a dictated one,” she finished comfort- 
ably. 

Winthrop nodded, and the nurse, after poking 
his pillows into shape, taking his temperature 
and writing down some cabalistic things on a 
chart by the door, went after the writing ma- 
terials. 

It was the first day her patient had been quite 
rational, and she was so delighted that she stopped 
at the doctor’s office to report the improvement. 

“ Too bad the Secretary had to leave before 
the boy recognized him,” he commented. “ If 
his temperature doesn’t rise again this afternoon 
I’ll telegraph his father, and perhaps the old 
gentleman can run up for a few hours to-morrow 
or the next day.” 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 379 


“ How proud he is of the boy’s heroism,” 
the nurse said as she started to leave the room. 

“ Well, he ought to be,” snapped the doctor. 
“ It was the nerviest thing I ever heard of, and 
there’s some talk, I believe, of getting young 
Winthrop a medal for bravery.” 

The nurse thought of this as she adjusted the 
table by Winthrop’s bed and laid out the writing 
materials. Then she left the room, feeling that he 
would prefer to be alone. 

Painfully the boy wrote his acceptance, and 
just as he signed it with a feeble attempt at the 
old flourishing signature, Miss Porter reappeared, 
a large bundle of mail in her hands. 

“ It has been accumulating for the last ten 
days,” she explained, “ but until this morning the 
doctor thought best not to let you have it.” 

Winthrop looked at the date of the letter on 
the bed. 

“ Why, this was written yesterday,” he said. 
Miss Porter smiled. 

“ That letter was delivered to you through a 
mistake in the office,” she replied, “ but it seems 
to have had such a tonic effect that I got the 
doctor’s permission to give you an even larger 
dose.” 


380 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


Winthrop reached out a thin hand for the 
bundle. 

“ Where are they from? ” he asked almost 
childishly. 

The nurse ran an eye over the different post- 
marks. 

“ Out of the twenty letters there are, let me 
see, two, four, six, eight, nine, ten from West 
Point,” she laughed. 

Winthrop started to reach out both eager hands, 
but a sudden twitch in the bandaged left arm 
reminded him and, weakly, he sank back again 
upon his pillows. 

Oh, the dear, dear fellows! How good they 
were to him. How good! For a few moments 
he lay there, studying the postmarks and trying 
to puzzle out the handwriting on the different 
envelopes. This fat letter addressed in a round 
boyish hand was from Jack, of course ; that beauti- 
fully written one could be from Raymond only; 
that awkward scrawl was Bayard’s ; that affected 
angular hand, Lampton’s. 

The nurse watched the boy and smiled at his 
eagerness. 

“ Shall I open the letters for you? ” she sug- 
gested. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 381 


Winthrop shook his head. 

“No, thank you, it will make them last longer 
to do it myself,” and balancing the thickest letter 
against his bandaged arm he opened it neatly 
with a penknife. 

Miss Porter moved about the room in her noise- 
less way, making it even more orderly with a deft 
touch here and there. The one white-curtained 
window was open, for though it was only the first 
week in March the sun and air were caressingly 
soft. An indescribable earthy smell pervaded 
everything, and there was a faint suggestion of 
green in the limited bit of grass bordering the area, 
while the deceitful buds of the elm trees looked 
as if ready to burst into bloom. Far down the 
street a huckster was crying his wares, and as she 
stood beside the window, Miss Porter was sure 
that the bit of blue sky she could just make 
out above the housetops smiled in benedic- 
tion. 

A sudden gasp from the bed startled her. She 
turned quickly and saw that Winthrop had thrown 
one letter down andw^as painfully opening another. 
After a quick look at its contents he tossed that 
aside for a third; this in turn was discarded for 
a fourth letter, which was on such thick paper 


382 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


that in order to open it he tore at the envelope 
with his teeth in a perfect frenzy of haste. 

The nurse hurried to his side. 

“ Mr. Winthrop,” she protested, “ Mr. Win- 
throp, sir! ” 

At the voice of authority Winthrop looked up. 
There were two red spots on either cheek and his 
breath came hard. 

“ Tell me,” he gasped, “ what did the papers 
say about my accident? ” 

The nurse stared. 

“ Why, nothing you could possibly object to, Mr. 
Winthrop,” she returned soothingly. “ In fact 
they were all very complimentary.” 

Winthrop clenched his teeth hard. 

“ But what did they say? ” he insisted. 

Up to that time, even in his lucid moments, 
the boy had not shown the slightest interest in the 
matter beyond asking if the old woman had been 
hurt. Reassured on that point he had let the 
subject drop. Now he seemed to fear he had not 
been given due credit for his bravery, and Miss 
Porter felt a sense of disappointment that made 
her voice cold as she replied : 

“ Really I can’t remember what the papers 
did say, Mr. Winthrop, except that you saved 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 383 


the woman’s life at great risk to your own, that 
you were very cool about it, and that West Point 
was to be congratulated on producing men like 
you.” 

The colour in Winthrop’s face flamed higher 
than ever, and the nurse in Miss Porter predomi- 
nated over the woman. 

“ When you get a bit stronger you can read the 
papers for yourself,” she said in her professionally 
bright voice, “ and meanwhile I’m going to clear 
up these letters and make the room presentable 
for the doctor’s afternoon visit.” 

Winthrop watched her unseeingly with eyes 
grown suddenly hard. 

“ Shall I fold the note you’ve written to the 
class and address it for you? ’’she asked pres- 
ently. 

Her patient shook his bandaged head. 

“I — I’ve changed my mind about accepting 
the invitation,” he answered dully. “ To-morrow 
perhaps I’ll feel more like writing my regrets.” 

Miss Porter looked at Winthrop keenly, then 
gave him the thermometer to “ smoke,” as she 
continued her work of gathering up the scattered 
papers. 

That evening she was relieved by another nurse, 


384 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


and the next week on reporting for duty, refreshed 
from her short vacation, she was delighted to find 
Winthrop quite himself again, his temperature 
normal, his eyes bright and clear. 

“I’m going to ask you to write a letter for me 
to-day,” he began on seeing her. 

Miss Porter acquiesced briefly, but was filled 
with a not unpardonable curiosity when a few 
hours later she started this epistle at Winthrop’s 
dictation : 

“My dear Raymond: — As class secretary 
I write you this, knowing you will see that the 
others hear my reason for not accepting their kind 
invitation to the class dinner on June 14th. By 
chance I received the invitation before the personal 
letters that had preceded it, and I was so delighted 
you all wanted me that I most broke my neck 
to say ‘Yes.’ 

“ Then the other letters came, showing you’d 
invited me under the misapprehension that I’d 
done something heroic the day of my accident.” 

Miss Porter looked up quickly from her writing, 
but Winthrop, lying back with his eyes closed, 
went on quietly: 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 385 


“ I feel like a simpleton, old man, and don’t 
quite know how to tell you what a fluke the whole 
business was. You see, the newspaper chaps got 
it into their silly heads that I did something or 
other heroic, when the whole truth of the matter 
is I hadn’t an idea there was a runaway, and simply 
knocked the old woman from under the horse’s 
feet by accident.” 

Miss Porter, conscious that Winthrop had 
opened his eyes and was looking at her, repressed 
a start of amazement and waited quietly for his 
next words. 

“ I was leaving that afternoon for Washington, 
and in my hurry to catch a cross-town car to the 
ferry, I tore around the comer of Broadway and 
Twenty-ninth street, only half conscious that the 
crowd was bigger than usual and the noise more 
over-powering. Fighting my way to the curb, 
I started across the street and in my awkwardness 
bumped against an old woman coming towards 
me. As she fell, she caught hold of my arm and I 
went down, too, with a hansom cab almost on 
top of us both. 

“ Well, the next thing I knew I woke up in the 
hospital, and asked if the woman had been hurt. 


386 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


They said not a bit, so I rested peacefully in that 
thought till I read your letters and learned that for 
ten days I had been posing as a hero, when I was 
nothing more than an awkward lout. 

“ For the last week I’ve been trying to get the 
papers to print the true version of the story in 
as prominent a place as they printed the other 
rot, but with the exception of a signed letter 
tucked out of sight somewhere in their columns, 
they have done nothing, one of the editors even 
writing back to accuse me of self-consciousness by 
saying that the public had forgotten all about 
the incident anyway, and that there was no need 
of re-opening it. 

“ As the papers won’t help me out in the 
predicament, my only recourse is to write those 
whose opinion I really value and tell them the 
truth. I’m sorry I’m not the hero my friends 
would have me, but at least I’m glad they thought 
me capable of the heroic deed. 

“ Good bye, dear old Raymond, and please 
thank the class not only for the invitation, but 
for its kind thought of me.” 

As Winthrop signed the letter, Miss Porter 
looked at him with a new respect in her eyes, for 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 387 


she had lived long enough to know that writing 
such an explanation had taken even more courage 
than would have been required to save the beggar’s 
life that afternoon on Broadway. 

Something of the kind must also have occurred 
to his friends at West Point, for the very next day 
Winthrop received a special delivery letter which 
turned out to be another invitation to the fur- 
lough dinner, and this time it was signed by 
Riggs and Gronna in addition to the rest of the 
class. 

“ A man that would get down from a pedestal 
as well made as that Winthrop was on, must be 
the soul of honour,” Riggs had said, looking up 
from a second perusal of Winthrop’s letter. “ And 
he doesn’t write as if he’d just discovered the 
Ten Commandments and wanted to tell you all 
about ’em, either. He’s the sort of chap West 
Point might well be proud of, and I’m only sorry 
that circumstances didn’t permit his graduating 
with the class.” 

“ And what about that affair last summer? ” 
Gronna had suggested. 

“Well, we were mistaken, Sorrel-top, that’s 
all. A man who could act as Winthrop has, is 
white all through. He simply couldn’t be guilty 


388 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


of anything underhanded. Why, what he’s just 
done is worthy of — ” 

“ Of Bayard himself,” finished Gronna laugh- 
ing, and then he suggested that they write a joint 
letter to Winthrop, apologizing for their unjust 
suspicions in the past. 

This they would have done but for Stirling, who 
advised them to let well enough alone. So they 
contented themselves with a friendly letter which 
spoke admiration from every line, and Winthrop 
read it with eyes that saw but dimly, rejoicing 
in his heart that he had not succumbed to the 
temptation which beset him sore that afternoon 
in the hospital. 



CHAPTER TWENTY - SEVEN 


Meanwhile at West Point the days marched 
along towards June in single file, so slowly at first 
that it seemed as if they were simply marking 
time from '‘Reveille” to “Taps.” Then, of a 
sudden, they went by at a quickstep, this soon 
changing to double time, faster and faster, till 
Sunday morning inspections almost tripped each 
other up in their rapid succession. “ Forward, 
double time, march! ” the Year had commanded, 
and no laggard in his studies could call “ Squad 
halt! ” or order a backward movement to the 
rapidly passing regiment. 

On March fifteenth the third class riding lessons 
gave way to mechanical and mathematical draw- 
ing, while company drills, so hard on every one 
after the long winter’s confinement, were resumed. 
As happened each year, most of the men were 
thoroughly exhausted after these drills and found 
it hard to study at night, some of them even 
falling asleep over their books, while the few who 
kept awake were so worn out that the reading 
389 


390 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


of the lesson was purely mechanical and resulted 
in a confused jumble of words, that in one way 
or another seemed to straighten out over night into 
something resembling coherence ; though as a rule, 
spring brought with it a general lowering of grades, 
and this despite the fact that the lessons were 
shortened with the coming in of drills. 

In the same way the delinquency list grew with 
the approach of June, and spring fights were as 
contagious as spring fevers, while even the least 
imaginative soul in the first or third class was apt 
to let thoughts of coming graduation or furlough 
interfere with military duties, and from the pages 
of his open book would find himself looking at 
visions of home, rather than the daily lesson. 

Early in April, artillery drills began and de- 
tachments of the third class were put in charge 
of plebes at siege drill, while the light battery 
manoeuvres on the plain were not to be despised, 
unless, indeed, a hard hearted battery commander 
made them trot beside their pieces and caissons 
when they might have been seated thereon. 

In May battalion drills, perhaps the most 
exhausting work of all, supplanted artillery prac- 
tice. In addition to this the furloughmen tramped 
miles around the post and up into the hills every 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 391 


afternoon, putting their theoretical knowledge 
of surveying to practical account. This meant 
that they had to be on their feet continuously 
from two o’clock until the supper hour, no mean 
achievement in those first warm, debilitating 
days of early spring. 

Meanwhile in Mathematics they had taken up 
Integral Calculus, the direct opposite of what they 
had been studying for nearly two months, and few 
among them but found it hard to scientifically 
untangle the complicated mathematical web they 
had been weaving so long. As for drawing, they 
had accomplished incredible things therein, what 
with patience, good instruments, and the best of 
instruction, and when they once began to put 
their knowledge into practice they realized how 
indispensable it would be in their future cam- 
paigning, and worked the harder because of this 
realization. 

Also most of the class had found that many 
things which looked impossible at first had yielded 
to hard study, and as they came to their last 
advanced lessons in Mathematics, they could not 
but realize that they had reached the top of the 
course after two long years of work, and it 
filled them with a satisfaction that even the 


392 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


coming June examinations could not entirely 
dampen. 

Then, too, class feeling had grown, and friend- 
ships that were destined to last a man through life 
had sprung up, for in the whole class there was 
hardly a fellow not on terms of brotherly intimacy 
with all the others. Nor was it strange, considering 
that their studies, habits of life, and surroundings 
were the same, as were also their hopes and fears 
and ambitions. 

To be sure, there were many who would never 
get used to the military discipline, nor what they 
were pleased to characterize as “ the grinding, 
intolerable life ” of the place. Neither were 
they liable to leave West Point with regret on 
graduation, but at least the home letters, when 
compared with those first written from the Acad- 
emy, indicated a great change of feeling in regard 
to the life there, while few among the cadets 
but felt they would enter the service two years 
hence did the Academic Board not prove over 
belligerent the while. 

The year had also brought about a revolution 
in their social positions, and given them a better 
insight into the real West Point, so that nothing 
would have induced the average fellow voluntarily 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 393 


to give up his cadetship, for as men found deficient 
at West Point and discharged from there will 
testify, the change back to civilian life, after a 
year or two of military discipline, is almost as 
awkward as is the primal transformation from 
citizen to soldier. 

Early in May the class began to hold Saturday 
night furlough meetings in the Dialectic Hall, 
where they discussed plans for the coming sum- 
mer; amicably wrangled over which New York 
hotel should have their patronage for the furlough 
dinner; or which route different ones would 
take going North, East, South, or West. 

Other evenings on release from quarters, they 
gathered at Battery Knox to sing class songs and 
watch the river steamers coming and going, with 
here and there a clumsy canal boat towed by a 
little tug, or again somebody’s yacht or sailboat 
drifting lazily by. 

Although many of the voices might have lacked 
training, the general effect was so good that 
even a Lorelei might well have stopped her own 
siren song to listen, and over on Professors’ Row 
gray-headed men heard the fresh young voices 
and remembered the approach of their own fur- 
lough many years before. So when “ Recall ” 


394 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


put an end to the singing, and the furloughmen 
trooped back to barracks, many a householder on 
the Point found himself reminiscently whistling 
“ Benny Havens, Oh,” the while he gazed out 
into the fragrant dusk, a thousand memories 
tugging at his heart strings as in barracks a 
thousand anticipations quickened the pulse of 
every man with furlough ahead of him. 

On the thirty-first of May the last recitations 
for the year were held, and at “ Reveille ” next 
morning the Corps appeared in white trousers 
for the first time since October, this being the 
signal that the hundred days to June had really 
passed, for rose-crowned and smiling, the gala hour 
of the cadet year was at hand. 

With mimic warfare and anything but mimic 
work in the examinations, the Corps passed a 
bewildering fortnight. There were innumerable 
parades, reviews, and exhibition drills, the men 
being under arms and in ranks hours at a time, 
either marching or standing rigidly at attention, 
picturesque and hot in their heavy dress-coats, 
but so happy the long year was over that nobody 
complained, even when the Commandant made 
them double time for the distinguished visitors. 

There were dashing cavalry and artillery drills 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 395 


on the plain ; riding exhibitions in the hall ; firing 
by the heavy sea-coast guns at old Target Hill 
across the river; pontoon bridge building; and, 
prettiest of all, the battalion skirmish drill when 
the cadets ran their skirmish lines in every direc- 
tion while they kept up a roar of musketry, the 
white smoke rolling over the plain from the 
cracking rifles. Finally the gray-coated figures 
swept down on the visitors’ seats in a dead run 
and captured their friends, the enemy, with small 
loss; as those who fell in battle promptly came 
to life after the line had passed, and running 
to the extreme left or right prepared to defend 
their country once again, and if needs be, die again 
for it, too. 

Finally on the last night before graduation the 
old mortars were fired, some fancy shells being 
introduced, and when six of these shells burst in 
the air at the same moment, sending showers and 
sparks in every direction, they made the most 
beautiful fire- works imaginable. 

The next morning after the final review and 
graduation ceremonies, the Corps assembled in 
front of barracks to hear the cadet adjutant read 
the “ makes ” of the year, and not a man there 
but felt his heart beat more rapidly as the newly 


396 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


appointed officer, wearing his gray uniform for 
the last time, read the special orders aloud. 

There were the usual surprises and disappoint- 
ments in the bestowal of chevrons; the usual 
heart burnings and rejoicings. As every one hoped 
and expected, popular Bob Graham was made 
first captain, while Jack Stirling stepped into his 
shoes as sergeant-major, Raymond and Bayard 
getting the chevrons next in importance, and this 
year nobody was surprised at Raymond’s luck, 
it having been a foregone conclusion that he 
would succeed Connelly as ranking first sergeant. 

In the new yearling class, little Tim Croghan 
carried off the honours as first corporal, which 
was almost the cause of his death by strangulation 
the moment ranks broke, both Stirling and Ray- 
mond falling upon him in a perfect frenzy of con- 
gratulation before they tore up to their rooms 
to get into their civilian clothes. 

“ Maybe you won’t go out into the wilds 
this summer and practice rattling off the names 
in the company, Mr. First Sergeant Raymond,” 
teased Stirling as he threw the last few things into 
his trunk. 

And maybe you won’t enjoy being sergeant- 
major next year,” retorted Raymond. 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 397 


“ My! But how we used to look up to the 
first sergeant and sergeant-major when we were 
plebes, do you remember, Mizzoo? ” 

Did he remember! Raymond lifted shining 
eyes from the trunk he was strapping. 

“ Jack,” he began, a little huskily, perhaps, 
“ Jack, old man, if it hadn’t been for you I’d have 
resigned that first year in barracks. Then I 
thought the whole business was bullying, pure 
and simple, now I realize it was discipline; while 
in the section room — ” 

“Well, in the section room I owe you more, 
Mizzoo, than you owe me, for if it hadn’t been for 
you I’d have come out at least ten files lower than 
I did, and — ” 

“ Hurry up there,” called Riggs’ voice at the 
door, “ or you’ll get a late at the dinner forma- 
tion,” and then in a lower tone: 

“ By all that’s military, what have we here?” 
Jack and Raymond looked up quickly to see 
Bartholomew Bayard standing in the doorway, 
a hand on Riggs’ shoulder. And what a changed 
Bayard from the awkward country boy of two 
years before! Now, dressed in an inexpensive 
but well cut sack suit, with irreproachable shoes, 
tie, and derby, he could have passed muster any- 


398 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


where, and although he still had the habit of blush- 
ing furiously, it was not accompanied by a de- 
pression of the chest or averted eyes. Instead he 
looked one squarely in the face, sure of his wel- 
come. 

“ Why, Chevalier, you’ve ragged it regardless,” 
commented Stirling admiringly. “ Turn around 
and let’s have a look at the back. Whew! It’s 
ripping, man! ” 

“Is it? ” exclaimed Bayard apprehensively. 
And then with a pleased grin : 

“ Oh, you mean you like it? I’m so glad, 
Stirling. I was almost afraid to trust the 
tailor, he was so much cheaper than the 
others.” 

“ He was? ” demanded Riggs incredulously. 
“ Well, there’s a set to those shoulders that suits 
me to the ground. Tell your tailor it’s little 
Riggs for him at graduation.” 

Bayard was in a transport of delight at his 
friends’ approval, as arm in arm they followed 
the battalion to the Mess Hall. There they were 
joined by Gronna, who sported an outfit evidently 
copied from the one Winthrop had worn on 
reporting, although Gronna’ s tie was so nearly 
the colour of his hair that it aroused much good- 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 399 


natured chaffing at his expense, and enlivened 
the dinner hour not a little. 

Before the battalion was half through eating, 
the furloughmen were going from table to table 
in an ecstasy of leave-taking, but finally the last 
hand was shaken, the last good bye said, and the 
happy fellows were swinging down the long hill 
to the station. 

Their first two years at West Point were over, 
the years principally devoted to teaching obedience, 
a most necessary lesson for men who in turn were 
to command. They had also learned what leads 
to sovereign power, “ self-reverence, self-knowl- 
edge, self-control.” In addition, the most careless 
among them had acquired habits of personal 
neatness and could keep his clothing, quarters, 
books, and arms in the best possible condition. 
Promptness was also theirs by virtue of number- 
less roll calls a day, and in the section-room 
and at drills they had learned to do their full duty 
or suffer the consequences. 

In almost every instance the physical condi- 
tion had kept pace with the mental, and the eighty 
young men remaining in the class would have 
served as examples of the survival of the fittest, 
for the indolent, the time-serving, the unscrupu- 


400 


IN WEST POINT GRAY 


lous, the low-minded, and the dishonourable 
had been eliminated from their midst long before. 
Well set-up, mentally, morally, and physically, 
clear-eyed and clear-brained, the furloughmen 
returned home after their long absence, a trifle 
ignorant, no doubt, of the world at large because 
of their highly specialized training, but well 
instructed in those things that serve to make the 
world a better place. 

What a happy, rollicking, noisy lot they were 
as the boat drew up to the pier. How they yelled 
and shouted and cheered when the gangplank 
was finally let down and they streamed aboard, 
not in the orderly fashion they had been taught, 
but scuffling and falling over one another, each 
anxious to be the first to shake the dust of the 
place from his feet. No need for officious attend- 
ants to shout the obnoxious “ Step lively, please! ” 
to furloughman or graduate, the former, especially, 
pushing and shoving and treading on each other’s 
heels in their eagerness to get aboard. 

Some of them even disdained the aid of the 
gangway and, to the huge disgust of those in 
charge, leaped over the railing, while on every side 
could be heard mock commands from whilom 
corporals, the gentle “ Hep, Hep,” of the two 


AS PLEBE AND YEARLING 401 


previous summers, interspersed with entreaties 
to “ Stop that shoving, you fellows back there! 
From the way you act, anybody ’d think you were 
glad to leave the Point.” 

As impatient to be off as the furloughmen 
themselves, the day boat tugged at her hawsers. 
At last she started. The band struck up “ Benny 
Havens, Oh,” and furloughmen and graduates 
alike took up the glad refrain, while from Battery 
Knox a group of newly made yearlings and first 
classmen joined the chorus with improvised 
megaphones, caps and handkerchiefs waving 
lustily until a bend in the river hid the boat 
from sight. 


THE END. 




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